Silversun
by Co-Quill-Eon
Summary: Damon is sick and tired of Mystic Falls and all it entails. So he leaves to participate in some... introspection. Damon-centric. Damon/OFC, Damon/Elena
1. Epilogue

"You realize this is the... third time... I've saved your life now?"

It's these words that do it. It's at these words, in this moment as Elijah walks away that Damon realizes that he needs to get out.

Sitting here, his aching flesh rapidly healing, the bodies of dead werewolves surrounding him, filling his living room, is when the thought hits him like a sledgehammer- he's _tired_ of this.

He's sick and _tired_ of_ every fucking day_ being like this.

People probably assume that this is the kind of stuff he lives for- the danger, the killing - but honestly Damon lives for one thing and one thing only - himself. He enjoys being a danger to other people and not having it the other way around. He's got the same philosophy towards killing - sinking one's teeth into yielding flesh and ripping out a throat is always satisfying to the point of indecency, but he'd much rather be the hunter rather than the hunted. This shit, what's going on in Mystic Falls, is _not _what he signed up for. Werewolves and Originals and _Jonathan Gilbert_ isn't what he came here for and it's sure as hell not going to be the reason why he stays. He misses the days where he was alone and free to do whatever he wanted. The days when he lived in busy cities, and went out every night. He misses picking up a gorgeous little thing, bringing her back to his place, and sucking her dry after she does the same to him.

But now, carefree is the last thing he feels - now he's just sick and tired. He's sick and tired of being a target. He's sick of constantly having to cover the tracks of others and not having enough time to create his own. He's sick and tired of fighting for a girl who won't even fight for herself. But when it comes down to it, he's sick and tired of fighting for a girl who will never love him. A girl who, when it comes down to it, Damon honestly doesn't know why he even cares about anymore.

Elena uses him as muscle -_ Don't kill my friends Damon, but I need you to take care of a few werewolves with blow torches and stakes._ The extent of their interaction these days is her manipulation of him; putting a hand on his arm, asking things of him that she has no right to. Things like begging him to be a better person.

The memory causes Damon to snort bitterly - this request coming from a person who, even though no one _else_ seems to notice, is slowly but surely turning into Katherine. Or maybe even worse than - at least Katherine has a sense of self-preservation, a quality that despite causing him much heartache over the years, he has to grudgingly admire .

Not Elena - she's always itching for her heartbeat to stop. Willing to be a martyr, a concept Damon honestly cannot understand. But hey, she wants to get herself killed, Damon won't stop her. Not anymore. Hell, he's sure he stopped caring long ago, but the killjoy of routine and a twisted sense of obligation had already set in. It'd taken a torture session with a werewolf after his own heart (figuratively and literally) to jolt him back into reality, which is the fact that Mystic Falls _isn't_ reality. At least not his.

Not anymore.

He needs to get the hell out.


	2. Chapter 1

Georgia is like Virginia... without all the undesirables crawling around (and Damon doesn't put himself in this category, despite the many, _many, _times he's been alluded to being one of said 'undesirables') Collectively, he's spent almost fifteen years here and its become his version of home. The home he actually _wants _to go back to. The air is just as smuggy as it blows through the car windows, the sun is just as strong on his skin, and he wouldn't have it any other way. Besides a few instances recently in which his ring has been taken forcefully from his body (fucking Stefan) Damon has been lucky enough to be able to walk during the daytime, directly in the line of the rays of sun and despite one hundred and fifty years he's never once taken this for granted. Yeah he can be grateful for things. Another thing people don't know about him. He really is frightfully misunderstood, he contemplates as he makes the turn down a mildly secluded road.

Georgia isn't far from Mystic Falls, but it doesn't matter. It's far enough to avoid everything that's been going on. And he's sure Stefan won't come looking for him. He did leave a note after all, a simple _Fuck Off _scribbled on a note attached to the refrigerator probably got his point across pretty sufficiently. And he threw his cell phone out of the window on I-80 so he's got more than enough time for introspection.

Yes, he introspects. Not on a regular basis... or ever, but shit, if he ever needed to get his head straight it's now. These past few months have screwed him over royally and he barely recognizes the voice in his head anymore. The voice that used to tell him to hunt and kill is now telling him to restrain himself and make _connections _with people.

And he doesn't like it, he thinks as, after hours of driving, he pulls into his driveway. Not the thoughts, but the fact that he doesn't really mind the new direction these thoughts are taking him. So, in retrospect he hates the thoughts too, for putting him in this predicament in the first place...

God, he hates Mystic Falls.

**o o o**

When Damon walks into the house he purchased a few years back he rolls his eyes. The decor is exactly like the boarding house and he's a little disgusted at his sentimentally. He remembers thinking he _had _to have a fire place, _had _to have wooden floors and paneling, _had _to have giant bay windows. Now he knows why.

He dumps his bag on the couch, and walks around, running his fingers over the dusty surfaces. He should have hired someone to clean this place, but he didn't know when he'd be back.

Does he _really _want to live here? Stay in a place where every time he walks into the front door, he'll have to do a double take because he thinks he's back in that godforsaken place?

He thinks about the effort it would take to find an apartment on such short notice, shrugs his shoulders, and goes to inspect the state of the bedroom. He's got to make sure that room is clean enough for tonight if he wants linger over dinner.

**o o o**

But Damon doesn't hunt that night. He only takes a blood bag and a straw to his room and flops onto the fresh parchment sheets. He stares up at the ceiling and sips slowly, brow furrowed. He didn't come to Georgia to stare at ceilings. He came here to-

_To what? _

And he's getting sick and tired of that voice. His voice. He hasn't gone this long without speaking to another person, plotting, scheming, in months and now he's plunged into silence with nothing but that annoying voice in his head and pathetic version of a juice pouch.

_What did I come here for? _He has to ask himself, and hates it because he thought he knew. To get away from the madness, to have it be like before when he was heartless and brutal and drowning in sin. But even as he thinks this his brow furrows further. He doesn't _want _these things. He doesn't _want _it to be like before. He doesn't know _what_ he wants. Even after having that unfortunate mental breakdown he disguised as an existential crisis and ripping out that girl's throat he's confused about his life. He still feels guilty about that, not that he should, he is a monster after all. But all the same.

His straw makes a scratchy noise as he sucks up the dregs of blood and he tosses it, empty, on the floor and licks his lips.

Should he go back? Go back to Mystic Falls and then leave again when he knows for sure what it is that he wants now? A flash of big brown doe eyes looking up at him, begging for something he cant give pops into his head and he dismisses that idea. Going back would mean enduring Stefan's smug expression and Elena's suicidal tendencies. And John Gilbert. Man, he hates that guy.

No, he'll stay here. Stay here and... float.

He hasn't floated in a while. Sleeping whenever he wanted to, killing whenever he wanted to, drinking, drugs. Oh, he misses drugs. Best thing about having a body that's nearly infallible - cocaine doesn't make a dent.

So he'll float and entertain himself with bets about how long it takes Elena to find a new way to kill herself and simultaneously take down everyone with her.

Not what he intended for this little getaway, but it's a start.


	3. Chapter 2

"Whoa, is this your _house?"_

Damon rolls his eyes at the question as he flicks on the lights and reaches out swiftly to grab the arm of the tottering brunette in front of him so she wont fall onto his favorite potted plant. He just got it three days ago and the woman at the nursery told him it was sensitive - he's sure a 5'7 brunette falling onto it would do it no good at all.

"No, it's my doctor's office." He says sarcastically. She's been asking stupid questions all night and he thought he could deal with it if he just focused on the way her breasts spilled out of her dress, but it's starting to take a toll. What started out as a surreal and slightly amusing conversation at a bar turned out into full nonsense by the time he'd gotten four shots of tequila and a beer into her system.

"What? Why'd you take me here?" Damon sighs and ignores her as he herds her towards the bedroom.

"But seriously, this is a really nice place. Big, and dark, and mysterious." She gives a giggle that grates on his nerves.

He's been here for a week and a half and so far every night has ended exactly this way. Well not _exactly_ like this, but the same for the most part - out to a club, find a girl, flirt, pump her full of alcohol, and get her back here so he can get his fill. Tiny discrepancies such as being dunk himself, high as a kite, or leaving the girl dead or alive is the only way he can keep the days from blurring all together into one big mess.

He looks around the living room and up at the sparkling chandelier, thinking vaguely that that cleaning woman did a hell of a job in such a short amount of time. He wonders if he kept her number.

"So," she looks around the large bedroom when he flicks on the low lights. "This is where you sleep?"

Damon smiles tightly. "Among other things."

She giggles again and does a little turn before sitting heavily on the bed. "You know, I really don't do this a lot. Or ever."

"I'm sure you don't, Karen."

"Kara. But it's your eyes you know? They're so bright. And you kept buying me drinks and, don't get me wrong guys buy me drinks all the time, but you're the hottest one." She looks around the bedroom again and sighs. "So, you said you were a doctor? What's that like?"

Damon shuts her up with a kiss and she makes a pleased noise in the back of her throat when he maneuvers her easily to lay in the middle of the bed and presses his body against hers.

She arches up into him and wraps her arms around his neck while he hooks a hand behind her knee and pulls it around his hips. His jeans are becoming tighter as 'little Damon' shows some interest and he moves his lips away from her mouth moving along her jaw and down her throat. She purrs when he licks softly and nibbles at the small juncture there. A purr that turns into a sharp gasp when he bites harder and he feels his face shift and fangs slide down. He savors the moment right before the sweet sensation of a fresh bite. Karen is still writhing against him, hips steady, when he bites down hard and her soft sounds turns into shout of pain. She struggles to get him to budge but it really makes no difference – he's ten times stronger than her. His mouth fills rapidly with liquid, the coppery taste igniting his senses and he thrusts his hips against her struggling body. He drinks for a moment longer and pulls back to look into her face.

She does look terrified. She's trembling and crying and her voice shakes when she asks "What- What's going on?"

He adjusts his body and raises a hand to stoke her hair gently. "Well... _I_ am hungry. And _you_ are just delicious."

A sob tears from her throat and she tries to sink back into the bed, away from his body. "Are you going to kill me?"

And suddenly Damon's mind is filled with the images and echos of Jessica asking the same question as she sobbed in the middle of the street. Another memory, further back, appears as well. When Caroline was still human, and on her back, face serene and beautiful as he stroked her hair, inquiring the same. The thought of Caroline stops Damon dead in his tracks. This girl _does_ remind him of Caroline, with her giggles, and stupid questions, and bright face...

_No no no. _He tells himself but he feels his resolve melt away anyway. He sighs heavily and lets his face change back to normal before taking her jaw in his hand and stares into her eyes. "No, I am not going to kill you, so relax," he Compels her and her expression smoothes out into one of bliss. When did he turn into such a fucking sap? _Not _killing people because they remind him of people he doesn't even like? He rolls his eyes as she smiles up at him and he continues to Compel. "But you are going to let me do unspeakable things to you tonight. Understood, Karen?"

"Mmmmhmm," she hums and stretches underneath him. "Oh, and it's Kara." Promising to reevaluate himself tomorrow morning, Damon lets his face shift before sinking his fangs into her neck again.

**oooooo**

" I had a lot of fun"

"Me too, Karen."

"Kara." She bends over to put on her shoe and once she straightens up she gives him a coy look. "So, do you want to do this again sometime?"

Damon gives a quick, tight smile and scratches his bare chest before walking forward and taking her by the shoulders. "No, I don't." he Compels. "In fact, I want you to thank me for a fabulous night and forget this ever happened. Forget my face. And make sure to wear a scarf until those bites heal. Understand?"

"Mhm," she hums happily and Damon gives her another quick smile. He turns her around by the shoulders and steers her towards the door. "Thanks for the fabulous night." she says and Damon pats her on the hair as he reaches around her to open the front door.

"No problem. Off you go." He gives her bottom a small slap and shuts the door on her giggles. He stretches, rolling his shoulders and letting his head fall back as he sighs, and makes his away across the living room to his bar. After pouring a drink he takes a few pinches of weed from the pile and places it in some thin rolling paper. He fixes himself a spliff and drops onto the couch with his drink and a lighter.

A few drags later he's approaching his preferred state of mind these days and allows himself to think. What the hell was that about last night? Not killing someone is all fine and dandy, but not killing them because they reminded him of Caroline? He wants to kill Caroline all the time. Just the other day he was contemplating breaking her neck. Well, not really, but still. He sighs and takes another drag. He's becoming sappy in his old age, he decides. Its the only explanation. It's this initial thought that makes the next one mildly okay. He inhales again and thinks about how he misses Alaric. The closest thing he has to a friend since... ever really. Damon doesn't exactly play nice after all.

He misses laying on the boarding room couch with Alaric sitting in the chair next to him passing a joint back and forth. Alaric is an idiot when he's high and starts spilling about everything that's bothering him, and how much he loves Jenna, before launching into jokes that he can't remember the punchlines to...

Damon stares up at the ceiling, the smooth, warm feeling of the weed working its way through his body and can't manage to chastise himself for thinking like a girl spending the summer at camp, away from her best friend for the first time.

Exhaled smoke curls in his vision. He can just write it all off as introspection.


	4. Chapter 3

Damon has one flaw. Many others will say otherwise -will suggest that he's got _dozens_ of flaws of which include, but are not limited to, recklessness, a bad attitude, stealing the remote control, and his tendency to go on killing sprees, but in all honesty Damon sees these as attributes worthy of praise. Keeps things fresh and exciting.

So, Damon has one flaw that he actually considers a flaw and its the fact that hes a _romantic_. Not only does he still believe in true love (despite what he tells everyone else) when he falls for a women he falls fast and hard. Ridiculously so. 'Follow you to the ends of the earth (or secret underground hidden tombs)' hard. And he hates it, despises it. When he's in love functioning is just _harder_ – yeah, he can go about daily life with little to no problem, can still pick up girls and have great sex and rip out their veins in an all too delicious blood bath, but his heart just isn't in it.

And the worst part about it all is that he's always falling hard for women who really could care less about him. Katherine was the very definition of a bust, with not only not caring if he died, but more than once trying to aide in his demise, and Elena has this whole being irrevocably in love with Stefan, always was, always will be thing going on. And there was that whole situation with Naomi. Not much different from the other two, now that he thinks about it. Well, except for that blonde hair he ached to run his fingers through all day and viridian eyes that managed to stun him every time. She still kept him hanging and hoping, but that was in the 70's and he rather not think about that fiasco. And not just because it still causes an annoying twinge in his chest.

At any rate, he's proud of himself for pulling himself out of that situation physically before it became too late (and why doesn't he put the numerous attempts on his life in the 'too late' category?) but how the hell does he get out of it mentally? Because if he's being honest with himself (and he _is _because that is what introspection is for after all) he's never really been out of 'follow you to the ends of the earth' mode for years. All he did was transfer those feelings from one woman to the other, and two of those three are identical.

**o o o**

Her name tag says that she is Soleil and Damon can't find it more ironic that this is the girl that has caught his attention. She's gorgeous, of course - thick, burgundy hued hair piled up atop her head in a messy bun, light clear eyes the color of seafoam that could give his own a run for their money, olive skin, and full, pink lips that wrap around the edge of her own cup of tea or coffee. He finds the freckles on her nose ridiculously endearing and when she hands him his cup he lets his fingers linger.

But she, Soleil, pays him little mind.

She sets her paper cup down. "Five sixty three." _Her voice is lovely_. Damon blinks and shakes his head slightly at the sappily worded thought. But its true, she has a lilt to her voice that reminds him of New Orleans, Louisiana. That part of the south where the vowels are soft and consonants caress. So different from the sharp southern twang he's used to hearing lately. She smiles politely while he takes out his wallet to pull out a twenty.

"Keep the change." He gives his best flirty smile, the one that led the blonde from last night to her death, and she grins back.

"Thanks." She puts the cash in the register and pockets the rest and when she looks up at him her smile is a simple one. It doesn't hold any flirtation, or suggestiveness and it throws Damon off a bit. He's not used to being looked at like this - the term "fuck me eyes" was created because he'd grown into his looks and has been generous enough to stay this way.

"Is there anything else I can help you with today sir?"

Damon leans forward, resting his forearms on the counter, and smirks at her. "There is actually. You can go out with me tonight." It's corny, but it will work for a guy who looks the way he does.

The other girl behind the counter that Damon hasn't paid too much attention to gives a giggle. A giggle that he's heard before. He flicks his eyes over to meet hers and she blushes violently when he squints at her for a moment, trying to remember where he's seen her before. She pushes her hair behind her ear and he sees a small scarf tied around her throat and in a rush he remembers that this is the brunette from a few nights ago. To make sure, he waits for her to turn and reads her name tag. _Kara. _Great. Not that it matters, he Compelled her, but still. This is why he doesn't like leaving them alive. There are awkward moments abound even if they don't know it.

"No, I don't think so. Thanks though." That soft, silky voice that seems to wrap itself around his bones pulls him back to reality.

"Oh, c'mon. It's just one date. What can it hurt." He eyes her slender neck.

Her smile tightens a bit, but her voice stays pleasant. "No thank you. I'm really not interested." She ignores the way Kara brushes past her, nudging her in the back with an elbow in a not so subtle way that hints towards 'what the hell are you doing?'

Damon holds her eyes for a second, barely contemplating what he's about to do, but feeling a little odd about it. He's never had to Compel a woman to go on date with him. To get them to stop screaming, yes, but that first step has always been easiest. "I think you are," he says, Compelling her to agree.

He thinks he sees her eyes, instead of sliding and readjusting, harden a fraction, sharp as ever. But in a second the expression is gone and a flirty smile is sliding in its place. She waits for the other girl to pass by before leaning over and taking Damon's larger hand in her smaller one. She smells like flowers. And soap. Her skin is cool, soft, and dry.

He smirks to himself and lets her turn his hand over so that his palm is facing upwards. She traces the lines with her pointer finger and looks up at him from under her lashes. "You're right. I am interested." She fingers the smooth side of his ring for a moment and raises her face, giving a slow smile.

"Are you?"

"Mhm." She hums and rubs the pad of his hand with her thumb in a way that makes Damon's stomach flip. She leans forward and her sweet smelling breath washes over his lips. Suddenly, Damon feels the smallest sensation of not being totally in control of a situation. He can't remember the last time a girl who wasn't Elena caught his attention so fully (and that was for an entirely different reason). Not even Rose was instantaneous. But this girl already has him drawn in way too much far, far, too soon, already having his stomach flutter and waiting impatiently for her next words. But the sensation passes as she speaks. "Are you used to girls saying yes?" Confusion pricks at his conscious but he can't dwell on it as she speaks again, voice low. "I'm interested in knowing, because it really does seem like you aren't used to hearing 'no.'" Her fingers still play with his hand gently.

"I'm not going to lie; no isn't something I hear very often." He grins cheekily. "But can you blame them?"

She gives him a little smile. "Do you flash your pretty eyes and dimples? Bet it gets them _right_ where you want them." The contradiction of her oh so soft ministrations, and slightly scathing words in that sensual, soft accented, tone of voice has Damon's mind going haywire and he tries to focus, trying to stay on top of the banter.

"Pretty much."

Soleil gives a small laugh and leans in even closer. If Damon leans in now, he'll be kissing her, and he bets her mouth tastes amazing. "In that case," she breathes, "no. No, no, no." She gives another little huff if laughter at his expression, a lingering smirk that morphs into slight confusion, and lets go of his hand.

She's standing up straight now, and her voice is back to normal pitch when she calls out to Kara. "I'm going to do mid-day inventory Kar. Watch the register?" And, without a backwards glance, walks to the back of the store disappearing behind a door.

Damon blinks, once, twice. What just happened? He Compelled her, why didn't it take?

"Would you like anything else sir?" His eyes fly to a still furiously blushing Kara and he glares at her. The Compulsion worked on her, she obviously doesn't remember what she let him do to her a few nights ago. Then what the fuck?

"No... no I'm fine." He says, straightening up. He grabs his coffee, and leaves the cafe, mind whirring.


	5. Chapter 4

The next time Damon sees her isn't at the cafe where she works (and where he checks first), but the book store across the street. It's a rainy day out and she's wearing the most absurd yellow galoshes he has ever seen - they're covered in cartoon frogs with huge eyes and silly smiles. She's smaller than he thought and doubts she even touches five five.

He prefers taller girls.

But oddly enough that doesn't stop him from approaching her. But first he watches and thinks.

She isn't wearing any discernible jewelry like a ring or a necklace, anything that would help her walk in the sun. He doubts she's a vampire, even though the only beings able to withstand Compulsion _are_ vampires. And werewolves, but he knows that she's not on of those - he can _smell _those now, and all Soleil smells like is clean soap and flowers. There's also the chance that she has vervain in her system, but that would mean that she _knows_ about vampires. And contrary to popular belief, unlike Mystic Falls where everybody and their mothers knows about vampires, most towns don't have any clue.

What can he do or say to her to not give himself away? He looks around for inspiration - ask her how she feels about vampire novels? He snorts to himself - those authors rarely get it all right anyway. Pass by and cough the words "wooden stake" and gauge her reaction? Drop wolfsbane down the gaping spaces caused by her boots? Briefly, and surprisingly, Damon almost wishes he had Caroline at his disposal right now. The girl can get anything out of anyone without them even realizing it.

Up ahead, Soleil replaces the cook book she's been skimming with another one. He watches as she wrinkles her freckled nose and puts that one back too after just three pages in. She steps back and looks upwards, scanning the shelves. One book catches her eye and she reaches up to get it. For a moment, Damon allows his eyes skim down the line of her back and follow a stray tendril of hair that escapes her bun, but he snaps himself out of it and makes a choice; he won't ask anything, he'll just... hang around a bit and see what her deal is. He acknowledges that in retrospect this could be dangerous for him, but really, this is a piece of cake after managing to just continue _to wake up_ in Mystic Falls.

Fixing a charming smile on his face, Damon pulls himself from the shadows and saunters over. Once he reaches her, he easily reaches the intended spiral style cookbook she'd been grabbing for and flips it over to look at the cover. "Paula Dean?" he tuts. "Do you _want_ a heart-attack?"

Soleil looks annoyed as she takes the book away from him. "You again."

"Me again," he confirms smiling pleasantly. "Women are usually happier about it, though."

"Is that really how you hit on a girl?" she asks, browsing through recipes. "By tell them about other women? I doubt that works."

"You'd be surprised."

"The fact that you have to sell yourself right off the bat-"

"I'd prefer to describe it as confirmation of my talents."

Soleil cuts her eyes at him. "What are you even doing here?"

Damon shrugs. "Browsing." He slides a book off the shelf at random.

"Browsing," she echos, and raises an eyebrow at his selection.

He allows his eyes to slide down to take in the title of the book in his hands. _Cooking in the Nude _by Stephen and Debbra Cornwell. "I'm expecting company later," he says easily, and she snorts delicately.

She tucks Paula Dean into the crook of her arm and turns away, meandering down the aisle. Damon begins to replace the book on the shelf, but after a second decides against it. He walks forward and matches her pace. "I preferred when you were watching from a distance."

Damon blinks. "What?"

"You've been lurking and following me around this place for the past ten minutes. I was hoping you'd just keep it that way." She stops at a rack of trashy paperback novels on sale, attention diverted almost entirely. Which is good for Damon, because at the moment he's more than a little surprised. He thought he was being stealthy. He _was _being stealthy. He's been following people since before this girl was born. He follows people all the time. He feels his defenses start to rise at the implication that his skulking skills are lacking, but presses it down. He's been quiet for a second too long, but he tries to cover his real reaction all the same.

"I was trying to build up some courage, wasn't I?" He asks in a way that hints at sarcasm and a sly kind of mirth. "To ask you out again after you turned me down so heartlessly yesterday isn't easy."

Something he says seems to annoy her greatly because her nose twitches before she folds her arms across her chest and Paula Dean's face and swings around to face him. Well, to look _up_ at him. "Seriously, does that work on _anybody?" _Damon is about to mention that it usually doesn't take this much effort and begins to wonder why he _isn't_ really wondering why he keeps trying with her, but Soleil keeps talking. "I don't even know you and you are easily the most infuriating person I've ever met. Which is sad, because you seem like the kind of guy I'd actually give a chance to if you dropped the act. Whatever it is."

"So, I'm your type?" Damon grins and tries not to let the fact that she is seriously adorable when she's annoyed distract him (he has a thing for women who snap at him).

Her lips betray her when they lift at the corners and she bites them as she turns away to peruse the rack of novels. "Is that all you got from that?"

"That and if I stop using lines you'll go out with me tonight."

She doesn't answer as she flips through a book with two intertwined lovers on the front cover. The man is dressed like a court jester and Damon refuses to even entertain that idea. "So,I'll take that as a 'yes'?"

"No," she answers, almost absentmindedly and places the book down.

"And why not?" Damon asks, amused. She's looking up at him again, with that little smile on her lips and twinkling eyes. He's wearing her down, he can tell.

"I don't even know your name."

Damon tucks the cookbook under his arm and takes a step closer. Keeping eye contact he reaches for her hand, small in his own, and brings it to hover in front of his mouth. "Damon Salvatore." He kisses the soft skin of her knuckles and a faint pink blush spreads across the tops of her cheeks and the bridge of her nose, causing freckles to stand out in sharp relief.

Besides that little reaction, nothing gives away what she's thinking as Damon rubs his thumb softly over her knuckles. Light eyes are locked for what seems like hours but is really seconds and Damon gently lets her hand go. Her gaze is a mixture of suspicious and pleased as she clears her throat. "I can see how that one may work," she murmurs and Damon grins.

"So... I'll see you tonight?"

Another smile plays on her mouth. "No, but," she pauses. "Next time... maybe." Damon watches her pick up a random paperback novel before she walks away. He wets his bottom lip and lets out a little incredulous huff of laughter. That was... interesting. He can't remember the last time he had to put in any effort to get a woman. He can't remember the last time he _wanted_ to. Staring out into the downpour outside he contemplates his next move, because this is actually fun for him. Normal fun and not 'murdering werewolves' fun or 'taunting Katherine with his freedom' fun. This was... 'getting high with Alaric' fun and 'making Stefan miserable' fun. With a jolt, Damon realizes that he's pining for normalcy and he doesn't know what to make of it. His life hasn't been normal for so long... he doesn't even know what that feels like anymore.

_It feels like this, _his mind intones. _It feels like flirting with a girl in a bookshop. _He shakes his head slightly and looks away from the grey sky. He can think about this later. Not that there really is anything to think about. He doesn't want to be normal - he isn't like Stefan. Damon doesn't want to pretend like he's human and everything is alright. He doesn't want to come home to the same face every night, and he definitely doesn't want a steady girlfriend... someone to call his own. That's not the life for him, it's almost painfully obvious by now. He tried doing that 'falling in love' thing already and none of it went anywhere and ended in a pile of dead bodies.

He catches a glimpse of Soleil as she goes to pay for her book and what looks to be a small stuffed toy in the shape of an owl and it's another jolt he feels when he realizes that she has him going down this train of thought in the first place. Smiling at the cashier, Soleil takes the bag and flips her hood over her head before stepping out into the street. She pauses, shrugs, and flips the hood back down. Despite being soaked instantly, Damon can see the small peaceful smile on her face as she walks away.

He stares after her, even as she turns the corner, ignoring that little niggle he feels at the base of his ribs. Without pausing to wonder why, he picks up the novel with the jester on the front and heads to the cashier.


	6. Chapter 5

"Soooo, have you said yes, yet?"

"No."

"Why the hell not?" Damon hides his smile behind his cup of coffee and pretends to do his crossword puzzle. It's been three days since the bookstore and he still hasn't landed a date. Not that that means he's given up - he attributes it to having nothing else to do.

He's sure Kara doesn't suspect that he can hear her whispers seeing as how he's in the far corner of the cafe, and he appreciates that she's rooting for him. The idle thought floats by that he's glad he didn't kill her. Unlike the other brunette last night who wasn't quite so fortunate.

"He's obviously into you," she continues on. "And he's _gorgeous_."

"Yeah I know," Damon preens in his head at Soleil's words. "But.. There's something... off about him. Don't you think so?" He scowls down at his paper.

"Whatever," Kara brushes the statement aside. "He seems like he's a cool guy. You're just looking for an excuse."

Soleil doesn't say anything and Damon risks a brief look towards the counter. She's rubbing at a spot on the counter, alternating between scrubbing and taking sips from a coffee mug, making a face after every swallow. He puts his pen down, gathers his paper, and stands up from his chair.

"Anything else, sir?" Kara asks as he passes by to throw his cup into the trash.

"Just a chocolate muffin to go," he smiles politely. Soleil has stopped cleaning the counter, but seems to be avoiding his gaze, and the telltale sign of a blush is creeping along her cheeks. He wants to make that blush stronger - wants to kiss the tip of her nose and rub his thumbs along her cheeks and listen to her stutter. The intimacy of the imagined touches is so different from his usual reaction of wanting to get a woman as naked as possible. It unsettles him slightly.

"Here you go," Kara hands him the bag and a sly smile is on her lips. "Hey, I know this might seem a little random," her eyes flick over to Soleil and back to him quickly, but it's long enough to take in Soleil's seemingly instantaneous murderous expression. "But me and Sole are going out tonight," she continues. "To Sanctuary? Ever heard of it?" The smirk bursts onto Damon's face, but he manages to reel it back in.

"Yeah, I've heard of it." _That's where I picked you up, _goes unsaid and Kara smiles up at him innocently, memory wiped clean of the occasion. He considers it - he wanted a date with Soliel, and now he kind of has one. Not to mention it would give him a great opportunity to grill her about what she knows, if anything. Even though after careful observation he's pretty sure she doesn't. He's starting to attribute the lack of response to his Compulsion as a freak accident. Mind made up he answers,"And I'd _love _to go. Unless," his eyes stray to Soleil, whose face looks like it's on fire, "_Sole _has a problem with it."

"She doesn't!" Kara says brightly. "So we'll see you tonight? At 10?"

Damon pulls out money to pay for the muffin and smiles. "Outside of the doors." Kara beams, Soleil continues to look flustered, and Damon grins. "See you later," he calls over his shoulder when he walks through the door onto the street.

o o o

Kara is mightily impressed when Damon manages to get them past both the long line of people and the bouncer with a few words said under Compulsion, but if Soleil is she does a great job of hiding it.

Ignoring the grumbling of those waiting in line, Damon holds out an arm, ushering both women past. It would seem like an action born out of good manners but the truth is Soleil is wearing the most delicious purple dress that hugs her curves (and God does she have them) and shows off her legs to their best advantage.

All three of them find places at a booth in the corner but after the first drink Kara gives Soleil a not too sly wink and slides out of the booth with her brightly colored cocktail.

The smaller girl gives him a small tentative smile, having seemed to get over her earlier flustered state. "Sorry about..." she waves her hand vaguely in the direction Kara disappeared into the crowd. She has to move closer to him to be heard and Damon doesn't mind a bit.

"I don't mind. Truth is, I haven't really made any ah, friends here yet."

"You just moved here?" Soleil looks interested.

Damon shrugs. "I'm from Virginia originally, but I've lived here before, on and off." He doesn't go into details. Somehow he thinks telling her 'on and off' was in the 1940's and 60's wouldn't go over too well. She nods and takes a sip of her drink, scanning the crowd as if looking for something. He takes this time to really look at her; she's straightened her hair and its slips silky smooth over her shoulders and down her back. She's not wearing too much makeup, but it doesn't seem like she needs any to be honest. Her lips are glossy though, shiny and pink and Damon wants to bite them.

He leans closer and talks in her ear. "Want to dance?"

She shakes her head and gives a small self-depreciating laugh. "I don't dance."

"Oh, c'mon," Damon teases, but she's adamant.

"I only dance when I'm by myself." She smiles at Damon's dubious look. "It's true. All over the house in underwear, naked, that's fine, but in a crowd? Not my thing." She continues on, oblivious to the image burning itself in Damon's mind's eye. "I don't really like clubs to be honest."

The beat changes causing the music gets louder and Damon has to shout a little to be heard. "Then why'd you come out tonight?"

"Kara," she says back. At his raised eyebrow, she elaborates. "She-" A pause. "She's got this bad habit of drinking too much. Way too much. She's been my best friend for a while now, but despite my warnings she continually gets piss drunk and goes home with losers. I mean, I stop her most of the time, but sometimes I can't get to her fast enough."

Remembering the fact that Kara had gone home with _him_ not so long ago, Damon takes a sip of his drink and aims for nonchalance. "They can't _all _be losers."

"Oh, they are," she nods and says loudly to be heard. "Every last one. It's kind of ridiculous. The last time she came back with bites _all _over he throat. _Deep _bites, like the dude was trying to eat her!" Damon shifts, and curses Kara. He _told_ her to keep the damn thing on. She really is just like Caroline.

"They couldn't have been that bad-"

She takes a hearty gulp of her drink. "Oh it was bad. She was wearing this scarf, like I wouldn't notice. It's so freaking hot out, why is she wearing a scarf?" Another sip. "This is really good. I shouldn't be drinking it though; I'm a ridiculous light weight. Anyway, I keep telling her that one day she's going to go home with the wrong guy and her face will be all over the news."

Damon's comfort level keeps dropping with every word Soleil says and it fairly plummets with her next words. "Like that girl, on the news this morning. Did you see that?" He looks out into the writhing bodies and shifts his shoulders, but her gaze isn't wavering, and after another swig of his beer, nods. "They found that girl in a _ditch." _She says, shock and incredulity coloring her voice. Damon knows damn well where they found her - he _put _her there early this morning. "Her _throat _was fucking torn out. They say it was an animal attack, but fuck that. This is Georgia, but the wildest animals we have around here are the squirrels. And I fed them sliced almonds and walnuts this morning!" She gives him a significant look with raised eyebrows and a quirked mouth before downing the rest of her drink. After blinking hard and shaking her head at the alcohol rush she catches sight of Damon's confused expression and she waves a hand. "I've got this feeder thing, in my backyard." She shifts in her seat and begins to slide out. "Im gonna get another drink," she shouts and starts weaving through the crowd.

Damon stares at a dark wall shifting between green and blue lights. Right, so. He's not killing anyone else. Or at least he can dispose of the bodies better... A few minutes pass before Soleil comes back with a different colored drink this time in a tall glass, and she grins when she sees him still at the table. "Last one!" she says. "Hold me to that."

To his immense relief, talk veers away from women he's killed. Instead they talk about themselves - or rather he asks questions about her. He doesn't feel like altering his life story at the moment. She's from Louisiana like he first suspected, the French Quarter to be exact, and she moved to Georgia five years ago for college, which she dropped out of when she realized that it wasn't for her. She grew up with her mother and grandmother, having never known her father. She met Kara when she started working at the cafe, and even though she's a little spacey, she loves the tall girl to death.

"She's got a good heart you know?" She says in her regular tone of voice. The song playing allows for the change in tone and her body is relaxed. From the drink or from Damon's good company he doesn't know, but he hopes it's the latter. Her eyes shine at him as she talks and it's so different from the first day they'd spoken. Which reminds him-

"So do you read?"

"Oh yeah! Tons," she nods. "I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but I love those trashy romance novels with Fabio on the front." She seems to remember something and snorts out a little laugh. "When I was younger, I stole one from my mom's room. You know how those writers are - kept referring to 'heaving bosoms.' They always seemed really happy, you know, when that happened so I figured I'd see what the big deal was." She laughs again. "So here I am, _heaving_ and breathing really hard when my grandmother walks in looking for... I don't know, something. So she seems me, thinks I'm having like an asthma attack, and freaks out. Lays me out and starts blowing into my mouth and everything." She gives another giggle mingled with a snort, and grins. "It was pretty ridiculous." Damon feels a bubble of laughter start in his chest, and it's fairly different. He hasn't really felt the urge to truly laugh in a while. But because he's him, he tries stifles it, although his mouth twists and a grin breaks free.

"That's ah," he begins when she's stopped giggling, "you were an interesting kid."

"Yeah, that's what they say." She grins at him. "So. Do you like to read?"

He says it ever so causally. "Yeah. Don't tell anyone this, but I have a guilty pleasure for those vampire novels."

An incredulous laugh. "Really?" Damon nods, watching her closely. "Those are kind of ridiculous,"

"Why do you say that?"

"Cause," she shrugs. "I mean, it's overdone a bit isn't it? Although, I didn't hate Twilight. Team Edward."

Damon opens his mouth to say she's insane, and Jacob _obviously _was the better choice when a slight commotion to the left of them draws their attention. Their table is hip checked and after Damon steadies his third beer bottle looks up to see Kara. "-you tomorrow!" she's saying to Soleil whose good humor is gone. On second inspection Damon can see why - a sweaty looking man with a shiny green polyester shirt has his arm around Kara's waist. Kara herself looks about to be three sheets to the wind.

"Nope!" Soleil claps her hands and stands up moving out of the booth. "No, you're coming home with me tonight, remember? We talked about this."

"It'll be fine!" Kara insists and leans in to say in what she probably thinks is a whisper, "he's a lawyer."

_Not with that cheap shirt, _Damon thinks.

The man hauls Kara back against his chest. "Don't worry sweetie," he says to Soleil. "We can share."

Soleil rolls her eyes and takes a hold of the other girls forearm. "I don't share. C'mon Kara-"

The sweaty man starts to look annoyed. "She can handle herself. She's a big girl."

Soleil ignores him. "C'mon," she urges and a drunk Kara starts to pull herself away from the arms of the man.

"For fuck's sake," and Damon can understand the guy's frustration; with a mug like that it must be hard to get _anyone _to agree to go home with him, but his agitation is rising and Damon rises from his seat to help Soleil.

"Alright, buddy. There are plenty of other women in here you can trick into sleeping with you. Leave this one alone-"

"Whatever," the guy says belligerently. "This bitch-" he points a finger at Soleil who's got a full hold of Kara, but his words are cut off when Damon pushes against his chest.

"Watch your mouth." And he means it; a fierce kind of something surges in his chest for both women beside him. Soleil gently places Kara to sit at the booth and rounds on the man.

"What did you call me?"

"You heard me. Cockblockers aren't-" No one around gets a chance to hear what cockblockers aren't allowed to do because Damon pushes him again, harder and he stumbles against the edge of the booth. Face red, the creep starts to get in Damon's face, but, to both men's surprise, Soleil slips in between them to look up into the man's face.

"Cockblockers can't _what?" _she demands, and prods him in the chest. "Huh?" He tries to sidestep her but she weaves to the side so that they are still facing each other. "Listen, _dick, _I didn't ruin anything. You were probably going to ruin everything when you dropped your pants anyway. You had to get a girl piss drunk to get her to go home with you and you want to blame _me _for you not getting any action?" The guy furrows his brow at her and looks uneasy and Damon feels his eyebrows raise is surprise. The people around them are staring now, and most are smirking and tittering at his lack of comeback.

He tries to save face. "Listen, bitch-"

Another hard prod to his chest, this time with three fingers splayed. "You keep calling me that, but you haven't even _seen _me _think _about being bitch yet." She advances and he backs up, and Damon is snapped out of his slight awe when her body heat moves away from him "You motherfu-"

"Alright," Damon says and wraps and arm around her waist, trying to ignore just how damn appealing she is to him at this moment, and turns them both around. "I think he's gotten the point," he says against her ear. And its true - when they both look back at the guy, he looks flustered, and he huffs a bit until he realizes he's lost and turns to, presumably, go back to the bar.

"Yeah, well," she harrumphs and turns her attention back to Kara who appears to be sleeping. Soleil's voice gentles again, along with her touches as she pulls away from Damon's arms and pulls her up. Damon wonders how Soleil manages to deal with Kara's dead weight on her own, seeing as how she _is _so much smaller and he leans over to help.

"Here, give her to me." He ducks and pulls Kara so that she's thrown over his shoulder caveman style. He hears Soleil give another snort of laughter as she reaches into the booth to grab both purses. They move through the crowd easily, the laughter from other club goers at Kara's drunkenness good natured. Once outside in the warm night air, Soleil looks up at him. "I don't suppose you drove?"

Damon smirks and gestures with his head down the street. "This way."


	7. Chapter 6

He must have passed some test, because after that night Soleil has softened towards him considerably. They still have their banter (and Damon is thankful for it) but it is on a friendlier level. He will stop by for his coffee and muffin when she is on the clock, and he takes pleasure in the faint blushes his casual touches inspire.

He won't admit it to himself, but the best part of his day is when he comes by right when she's getting off to walk her home. They can drive, but when he'd proposed that idea the first time Soleil had shaken her head and said simply that she preferred walking, "especially when the weather is so perfect." At first they both pretend that he is always conveniently just stepping out of the book store, or craving another muffin, but now he will just sit unabashedly in the corner of the cafe with his crossword, and wait for her to clock out.

She lives only fifteen minutes away from the coffee shop and even from the outside, he can tell it is hers. Bright flowers bloom under windowsills and in the garden. There are bird (and squirrel?) feeders in the front yard, and wind chimes that appear to be homemade send tickling music in the air.

He hasn't been invited in yet, despite his smirks and hints. "Nope," is all she will say with a laugh and slide out of his hands easily. That is another new occurrence; she'll let him hold her. Let him slide his arms around her while they speak, or when they're in line at a store, or when she was waiting for the sales associate to come back with her internal hard-drive. He makes sure to keep the action playful because the moment she realizes that he is looking at her in _that_ certain way, or giving off _that_ vibe, she'll make a joke, clear her throat, and slide away.

It puzzled him – usually he'd just accuse a girl of being a tease – until he saw something flash in her eyes. Something that looks familiar – a mix of wary and hopeful and something else. An expression he's seen too many times on his own face. So he leaves it alone.

But when he isn't with Soleil he worries. Mainly he worries about the fact that when he isn't with her he's _thinking_ about her. Almost constantly. About her laugh, and her hands, and her eyes, and her little stories. The way that she could be hard when she needed to, but is ultimately a bleeding heart. The way she makes laughter bubble up in his chest even if she doesn't know it. Thing is, he'd left Mystic Falls to have a little fun. Not only to be free from all the murder attempts, and moonstones, but also the drama... specifically the drama that came with having feelings for Elena Gilbert.

When he'd left, he'd made a decision (and a promise) to stop fooling himself into thinking that he could have... someone to be that person for him. The one girl he could call his own, and who (and he sounds like _such _a girl) would actually _love_ him and not just lie and say she did, or try to soften the blow by saying that she _cares _about him. Elena had shown him that, once and for all, who he _actually _is isn't good enough. He remembers that day on the Lockwood porch crystal clearly, when Elena had looked up at him, _really _looked at him and honestly pondered how he could actually think she loved him in that way. It still sends a pang through his chest, but he isn't going to cry about it; he _knows _that he is a horrible person, a monster even. He tears people apart of a regular basis, and isn't that what monsters do? He even knows it when he thinks about Soleil. Knows it after the fact, though, at the moment he watches her door close behind her and turns to stare, unseeing, at her happy little wind chimes, before walking down her steps and makes his way home.

But that is where the main difference lays; when he was _with _Elena, every moment in her presence, was when he was reminded that he wasn't good for her. It is only _after _he has parted company with Soleil that he will realize this. Remember, more like. But _while_ he is with her, he feels... He feels like a normal person. Not a vampire that can be used a weapon, or the villain that skulks in the darkness waiting to attack. He feels like a regular guy with a crush on a beautiful girl.

And that is dangerous.

It's dangerous because it gives him hope that he is sure, by now, he isn't allowed to posses.

_Christ,_ Damon thinks as he stares at his ceiling, inhaling sickly sweet air and feeling his skin begin to buzz,_ this vampire stuff never gets easier. _

**o o o**

"I'm bored," Damon whines as he picks at the fabric of a brightly colored top.

Soleil doesn't even spare him a glance as she flicks through the racks of clothes. "You can't complain," she murmurs and picks out a dark blue dress.

"Why not?"

"Because you invited yourself. You can't complain when you invite yourself somewhere, Damon." She turns to Kara who is at the next rack. "Do you think this color looks good on me?"

Kara looks up and contemplates. "Maybe, I don't really like the way the top is cut. Halters aren't my my favorite on you."

"You're right. Remember that awful orange dress I wore to Tracy's party?"

Damon groans to himself as the girls chatter. Soleil's right - he did invite himself along. But only because he doesn't have any other friends here and he still hasn't gotten around to buying a cell phone so he can bother Alaric. And Kara reminds him of Caroline and its oddly comforting. And maybe, just maybe, because he wanted to spend more time with Soleil...

"What about this one?" He picks out a dress at random, looks at the awful green leopard print, and places it back on the rack. "Forget it." He looks around the store. It's lights are too bright and there are mothers with fussy children, and bored looking employees milling around. "I don't like this store."

Soleil finally looks up at him. The blue dress is back on it's rack. "Why not?"

He fingers the fabric of a random article of clothing again. "Well, this material is far from the best."

She snorts. "Look around Damon. This is a department store. They aren't going to have fine silks here."

Kara laughs from where she is browsing. "Not that we could afford it even if they did."

"Exactly," Soleil smiles. "Besides, I don't mind wearing a polyester blend."

Damon makes a face. Nothing less than cashmere has touched his skin in more than seventy years. "Lets go into Buckhead."

Both Kara and Soleil laugh at this. "I _cannot _afford anything in that place, Damon. I work at a coffee shop in case you've forgotten."

"So, I have plenty of money," he says brushing off her excuse. And it's true, he does. When you've lived as long as he has becoming a millionaire is ridiculously simple.

"I didn't come out to watch _you _shop." She turns away to flip through the clothes, but he walks around her to face her.

"I don't plan to get anything. Well," he pauses. "Maybe a new cell phone. And some jeans... Look, we can just walk around, and you and Kara can see what you like..." he trails off.

"No." She doesn't stop browsing as she answers and a red top seems to catch her eye.

"What do you mean 'no?'"

"I mean, I'm not going to let you spend any money on me. Especially not Buckhead money."

"Oh, c'mon," Damon sighs. "This isn't me trying to buy your affections-"

"You couldn't anyway."

"I _know." _he says smoothly. _"_Its just me being _nice_." She spares him a glance that reads that even though she hasn't know him too long it doesn't seem like something he'd do.

"No."

"Are you telling me you _like _being here? With these crying babies and the faint strains of," he pauses and listens, "_Phil Collins _ playing on the loud speaker?" He looks around the store. "They don't even have a man chair."

"A man chair?" Kara says looking puzzled.

"You know," Damon says. "Those chairs for men to sit in while the woman take forever."

"You invited yourself," Soleil reminds him again with an exasperated huff.

"Doesn't mean I'm enjoying myself." Damon explains.

She lets the shirt fall back onto the rack and drops her head back as she sighs explosively at the ceiling. Damon thinks he's worn her down, especially when she steps closer to him and reaches up to take his face in her hands. Her soft palms make his stomach flutter. "Are you really that bored, Damon?" She asks in a tone of voice boarding on how one would talk to a small child. He nods. She pulls his face down a smidgen closer. "Then leave." She whispers and lets her hands drop. Damon scowls.

He tries a different tactic. "Kara wants to go." He looks to Kara who has been watching their conversation. He's tempted to Compel her but there's no need because her eyes are already alight with the prospect of a shopping spree in the city.

Soleil looks to her as well and Kara gives a little shrug. "I have been wanting to go to Jeffery Atlanta..." Damon grins and Soleil shoots her an annoyed look, but Kara isn't swayed. "Think about it. I could go to Jeffery Atlanta and you could go to Swank. You were eying that silk dress last time... I bet they still have it."

Soleil doesn't answer right away, instead looking at the racks of clothes biting the inside of her cheek. After a few long moments she sighs. "Fine. We can go, BUT," she turns to face Damon, "I'm not letting you buy me anything. You can go crazy on Kara, but I refuse to let you blow any money on me."

Damon grins. "Sure. Lets go."

**o o o**

_This is more like it_, he thinks. They are at their third stop since reaching Buckhead, and soft music plays in the background of the small store. The colors of the walls are muted and the sales people cool and professional. And not a fussy baby or sales rack in sight.

"Do you like these?" Damon's concentration on a Soleil resolute in not trying anything on is broken when Kara holds up a pair of heels in front of his face. They are black and strappy and looks like the shoes hookers wear.

"Nope."

"Why not?" she tilts her head to the side and holds them up to inspect.

Damon shrugs. "I don't like straps." Kara turns her attention away from the shoes to focus big hazel eyes on him.

"What's wrong with straps?"

"They look cheap to me." She blinks. "I just happen to prefer a women in pumps. The ones with the thing on the bottom." Another blink. "You know the ones," and briefly Damon realizes how bizarre it is that he's having this sort of conversation. "They have the things." He looks around trying to find an example and does quickly. He walks a little ways down the aisle and picks up the bright purple shoe.

"Oh!" She takes it from him. "You mean platform pumps." She eyes the appreciatively. "Very good taste."

"You sound surprised," Damon says even as he turns to look at Soleil again.

Kara doesn't answer right away. Then- "You really like her?" Damon doesn't answer, preferring to watch the other girl move about. She spends a particularly long time looking at a simple navy blue dress. "She doesn't really date, you know." Kara continues and Damon turns to look at her but she's scanning the wall of shoes. "Not because of any big broken heart or something, she just never really does. She's kind of paranoid of being hurt. Emotionally I mean, so she sort of keeps her distance." She picks up a pair of leopard print ankle boots. "She likes you though."

"How can you be so sure?"

Kara shrugs. "I can just tell. We've been best friends for years." The smile she gives resembles Caroline's so sharp and sudden and Damon wants to trust what she's saying.

He doesn't say anything more and she walks off to go ask the sales women for her shoe size. He spots Soleil checking out a purse and he heads over, making sure to pick up the blue dress on the way. He walks up quietly behind her and doesn't give himself time to second think slipping his arm around her middle to rest his open palm on her stomach. She jumps slightly, but relaxes when she realizes its him, the reaction making him smile slightly to himself.

"Do you like it?" He leans down and asks quietly against her hair.

"It's nice," she says in a nonchalant voice that doesn't fool him. He adds it to the list of things to buy when she isn't looking. "But three hundred dollars is _way_ too much." She places it back on its shelf, but doesn't move away from his touch. He holds the dress up in front of her.

"Try it on," he urges.

"I already told you-"

"I know, I know," he placates teasingly, "I just want to see it on a moving body."

"Why, before you buy it for yourself?"

"Exactly." He rubs his hand up and down her tummy slowly. "Just try it on." He knows that she's biting the inside of her cheek as she runs the fabric through her fingers. As she tries to decide, Damon focuses on how good her hair smells and how badly he wants to kiss her neck. Instead he keeps his hand moving gently and concentrates on how much he loves the way she fits against his body.

"Fine." She finally agrees. "But only because I don't want you to blaming me for your fashion faux pas." She hands him her purse and goes towards the dressing rooms. When she steps out a few minutes later Damon has her purse under his arm and is browsing the shoe wall while arguing with Kara ("I don't care what _W _magazine says, bright yellow shoes do not turn men on. What kind of magazine can't even give itself a full name, anyway?") They both stop speaking when they catch sight of her.

The dress really is simple, demure with a scoop neck and flows down to stop at mid thigh, but she looks fantastic in it. Elegant and pure. "Buy it." Kara says immediately. She scans the shoe wall and grabs a pair of forest green platform pumps. "And wear it with these."

Soleil laughs and turns to look at herself in the mirror. "It looks good?"

"Mhm" Kara hums and Soleil's grin widens.

"Maybe..." She fingers the price tag. She takes her eyes away from her reflection to look at Damon. "So," she twirls, barefooted, in a small circle, "you've seen it on a moving body. Gonna wear it for a hot date?"

Damon doesn't answer right away and the blush he adores steals across her cheeks under his gaze. She looks soft and lovely with her hair spilling over her shoulders, and bare feet, and fabric that flows on her body like water. Damon realizes that he's staring and quickly fixes his face into smirk.

"I think I will. When you take it off, hand it over."

She rolls her eyes and looks back at the mirror. "I can buy it myself, Damon."

"Who said it was for you?" Damon teases. "I've been looking for a color other than black to compliment my skin tone for a while." She gives a little huff of laughter and, with one last look at the mirror, slides back into the dressing room. When he hears the lock click he walks over to the sales woman and asks her to ring up a pair of those green heels, the black clutch on the wall, and the dress in a size six.


	8. Chapter 7

"You really don't have to walk me home everyday," Soleil says, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and smiling up at him.

Warm, sweet scented air sweeps by as Damon shrugs. "It's not a problem."

Soleil hums and they walk quietly for a few more minutes. "Have you made any friends here yet?"

Another shrug. "No, well," he grins down at her. "Besides you. And Kara."

"She told me you two went out to lunch the other day."

Damon's mouth twitches upwards as he remembers. Kara had insisted he allow her to take him to lunch. "To thank you! For the club and the _fabulous_ shoes." She'd proceeded to talk his ear off in between bites of salad on the patio of a small town restaurant. Oddly enough, he hadn't been annoyed in the least.

"Yeah, she talks a lot doesn't she?"

Soleil gives a small sigh of laughter. "Yeah, she does." They turn the corner. "Do you miss your friends back in Virginia?" she asks.

Damon thinks of Elijah, Katherine, John Gilbert. He thinks about Elena. "I don't have friends," he says shortly.

"Of course you do," Soleil says casually. "I'm sure you do."

"How can you be so sure?"

She looks up at him, as if contemplating something. "Everyone has friends. And you're pretty wonderful. Really, really weird, and slightly annoying, but wonderful all the same."

He can't help the hollow bark of a laugh that emits from his chest. "No one has _ever_ called me wonderful. For good reason." She doesn't say anything to this but when Damon looks down she's biting her lip in that way that he's come to realize means she wants to say something. "What?"

She doesn't answer right away and when she does her voice is quiet. "You do that a lot."

"Do what?"

"You..." she pauses. "You don't speak highly of yourself. I mean you do, in the most obnoxious way ever, but you're always kidding. When you mention something _real_ about yourself, you always..." She trails off and Damon looks to the side. He refuses to acknowledge that his throat feels a little tight and his jaw has clenched. A few minutes pass in silence until she looks up at him again, still quiet, gentle. "Tell me about your friends."

Damon thinks about Alaric. And Caroline. He thinks about his brother. And soon he's talking, voice low, with Soleil's arm linked through his so she can hear better.

**o o o**

When they get to her door they stand facing each other, and Damon has a split second remembrance of that night with Katherine on Elena's front porch. It's just a flash of memory, but it wrenches at a part of him he doesn't like acknowledging on most days. Until recently that is - everything that has to do with Soleil reaches that part of him, with results not at all like either Katherine or Elena.

The wind blows hair into her face as she looks up at him. She has that look in her eyes, the one that makes her look unsure, and Damon opens his mouth to say he'll see her tomorrow when her words come out in a rush. "Are you thirsty? I mean... I have water and coffee and some all natural kiwi strawberry shakes I made." A blush erupts on her cheeks, and Damon's smile is a small one. She clears her throat and impressively ignores the fact that her cheeks are probably on fire. "Do you want a drink?"

"I finally get to see inside?" Damon teases. "I was beginning to think you just had a spare key to a friend's house. Trying to throw me off the trail."

Soleil rolls her eyes. "I'll take that for a yes." But she's smiling as she roots through her purse to find her keys. She swings the door open and walks inside and has already hung up her bag and dropped her keys in the bright yellow bowl that rests on a small hall table before she realizes that Damon is still outside. She gives him a funny look and he gives a tight smile, wondering how to tell her that she has to officially invite him in without seeming strange. "What are you doing? Aren't you coming inside?"

"I am," he says and subtly moves forward even though he knows he can't walk through. It feels as if the tip of his boot has hit a wall.

"Today?"

"Ha ha," Damon laughs sarcastically. "Yes today." He doesn't say anything else and Soleil raises an eyebrow. They continue to stare at each other and she begins to fidget, an expression crossing her face that suggests maybe it was a bad idea to ask him inside. A spark of frustration shoots through Damon, but he taps it down and thinks fast. "It's just, I'm used to formal invitations." He feels ridiculous, but continues on. "My father, he made sure to instill it in his kids to be polite. To a fault, as you can tell. It's kind of a habit."

She still stares at him, but at least the uneasy expression she had a few moments ago is gone. She twists her mouth to the side in what seems like a poor effort not to giggle. "Oookay. Uh, please come into my humble abode. Good enough?"

Damon steps forward and over the threshold. Relief floods through him. "Perfect."

She huffs out a soft laugh as she turns away to walk down the narrow hallway and Damon closes the door behind him, looking around as he does. It's exactly what he would have expected - the walls are a deep purple and from what he can see, what looks like little arts and craft projects clutter surfaces. There are pictures of what he assumes are family and friends hanging on the wall, and a bright yellow bowl next to the door holds keys, change, and Tootsie pops. He follows her into the kitchen and it is bright and happy with white tiles and a cloudless sky boarder. There is a big bowl of fruits on the counter and in her draining board are brightly colored mugs. From his place he can see into the sitting room, slightly. It contains a television and an extremely comfortable looking, rounded couch.

He hears the nails on wood before the little bark, but soon a small, black and white, French Bulldog runs into the room and begins to hop and paw at Soleil's leg. "Hello, my baby," she coos as she bends and picks it up. "Hello, hello." The puppy tries to lick her face but she pulls away, still cradling it close. She turns to Damon. "_This _is my baby, Loki." The chubby dog snuffles and turns it's soft brown eyes on Damon. Loki is nothing like the hunting dogs Giuseppe used to keep on the property, but he can admit to himself that this dog has it's appeal. It's pretty cute - it is what a pug would look like it pugs weren't hideous.

"You're my baby, aren't you," she says softly, and scratches its side. "My chubby lil baby, hm?" Loki noses at wherever he can reach and she laughs before setting him down. "Kay, Lokes. Go play." Loki yaps once and darts out of the room, but not before stopping to sniff Damon's leg.

"Cute dog," Damon says as he settles himself on a stool around the kitchen counter.

"Thanks," she says, smiling and moves to the sink to wash her hands. "I just got him a few months ago. Was a little lonely." Damon doesn't say that he hopes she isn't lonely anymore, with him hanging around.

"So," she turns to face him, drying her hands. "What would you like? Water? Juice? I don't drink soda, but I have some fresh smoothie. Or coffee? I have that blend you always like to drink at the shop."

"Coffee," Damon supplies and she smiles.

"Kay." She turns to the electric kettle and flips the switch. He watches her move around the kitchen, getting mugs and the proper coffee beans and what looks like tea leaves for herself. He's seen her with her own tea mug nearly everyday and he assumes it's the same kind. After she finishes setting up the coffee pot, she turns around and leans across the counter. Resting one cheek in her palm, she stares at Damon for a few moments and he quirks an amused eyebrow. "I meant what I said before, outside."

"And what was that?"

"That you're pretty strange."

Damon grins ruefully. "You have no idea."

A smile quirks the side of her mouth and she shifts a bit. Her overly large shirt slips off one shoulder and he has the insane urge to lean over and kiss the soft skin there. "I'm serious. It's not even that whole... whatever that was at the door. You just... act funny. Like... you're a serial killer or you've got the remote control to a bomb in your back pocket."

"So you're saying I'm diabolical? I'm okay with that."

She laughs. "No. Well, maybe. But no, I mean you're just _too _charming." He preens mockingly and she slaps at his hand. "Seriously, if this were a Lifetime movie, I would be a fool for inviting you into my home. You'd just end up tying me to the bed-"

"Oh, I like this movie. You say they show these on Lifetime?"

"-and doing very bad things to me." She talks over him, grinning. "They'd find my mangled corpse the next day and they wouldn't even consider you as a suspect."

Damon keeps his expression mild, ignoring how close to home this hits and scoffs. "You're a little macabre for such a seemingly sunny disposition."

She shrugs and turns away to pick up the whistling kettle. His coffee is still brewing. "I watch a lot of those criminal shows. You know the ones - where it's always the neighbor, or the psychologist, or even the ice cream man." She pours her cup of tea. He watches her hands as she strains and stirs and adds sugar.

"You're always drinking that stuff."

"Yeah, my grandmother sends it to me." She sets the spoon down in the sink and sits down next to him. "She loves this stuff. Not my favorite, I'd rather coffee but I have this... 'condition'." She takes a sip and makes a face. "I can't even put sugar in it."

"What kind of 'condition?'"

She waves her hand. "Oh, some ear thing. Neuralgia I think it's called. Basically it's these ear aches that keep coming back. Anyway, this is a homemade remedy." She sips again and scrunches her nose.

"It can't be that bad," he teases.

"You think so?" she asks, a laugh on her lips, and hands it to him. "You try it, this stuff is awful."

Damon rolls his eyes, but takes the mug. It has Wallace and Gromit on it, holding their own mugs. He makes a face as if to say 'watch and learns' and swallows a mouthful.

The reaction is instantaneous - immediately his mouth and throat burn, _sear,_ as if he's been fed acid. Distantly he can hear the mug shatter as it crashes to the floor, but its hard for him to breathe, let alone pay attention to broken bits of ceramic. He can feel the veins appearing, _bursting,_ onto his face. He darts from the stool and uses his speed to rush over to the sink in less than a second. Loki makes a racket in the background, yapping and barking at the sound of something breaking.

Without wasting time to get a cup, he sticks his head under the faucet and sticks his mouth under. After a few moments of gargling, spitting, and drinking greedily he shuts the water off. He's breathing heavily as he leans on hands braced against the sink when it hits him. _Vervain. There was vervain in the tea. _Anger spreads through his body. He whips around to demand what the fuck is going on, ask _how _could she do this to him, but stops short at the expression on her face.

Soleil's eyes are as wide as saucers and her mouth hangs open in shock and not a little amount of horror, totally unaware of the puppy biting at her ankles.

Damon gets the sudden feeling _he's _the who has some serious explaining to do.


	9. Chapter 8

The clock shaped like a cartoon owl ticks loudly in the silent kitchen, but it doesn't quite manage to drown out the sound of Loki lapping at the spilled tea on the floor. Coffee percolates and fills the space with it's familiar scent.

Damon sits on the stool and watches Soleil. She's staring somewhere in the proximity of his shoulder and is biting at the inside of her lip. They haven't spoken for six minutes, but at least her eyes aren't round in shock anymore. He's glad that he didn't end up pinning her to the wall by her throat, demanding she tell him who she worked for, accusing her of knowing Elijah, or Jules, or anyone else who is trying to end his life. If her expression immediately afterwards and right now indicates anything, she had no idea what he is. And now, all he can really think, at this moment in time, is that he really didn't want her to find out this way, if at all. But he has to admit that she has surprised him. Despite her obvious shock she didn't run, or scream in terror, or start begging for her life. She'd just stared and gestured vaguely towards his vacated stool.

"A vampire." She repeats for the third time. The first time came out flat, the second a question ending on a high note, and this third with a nod. "Like... Dracula and Edward Cullen?"

He can't help but roll his eyes. "Like Dracula"

She blinks. "Right. So. You... actually _bite_ people and drink their blood. Because you need to." Damon nods and a spasm of some kind of emotion runs across her face accompanied by a huff of disbelieving laughter. Another stretch of silence. Then- "Wait. Arent'- I thought vampires couldn't walk in the sun. Is that a myth? Could I be walking next to a vampire at any given moment?" Her voice doesn't sound hysterical, but a faint note of wariness is creeping into her voice. Before it can grow into irrational panic Damon answers.

"I doubt it." He holds up the hand that houses his ring. "This helps me."

She blinks. "_That. _Really? How-"

"_Very_ long story."

Soleil shakes her head. "I can't believe..." she whispers, almost to herself. "_What?"_ The clock ticks and Loki bats at Damon's boots. "And it was the vervain? Nothing else that made you..." she trails off. He nods again and suddenly she's launching into a ramble. "I didn't know. Really, I mean, my momma and grandmama are _really_ into the homemade remedies. And my momma, she has the same thing I do, the ear pain, and she's been drinking the tea for as long as I can remember... She doesn't like taking medication." She sounds nervous and her accent becomes thicker because of it. He likes it, enjoys how smooth it is when it hits his ears. Damon wonders if she thinks that he's angry with her. He isn't, which comes as a shock to him. But he believes her-he actually believes that she didn't mean for this to happen. Which in and of itself is _very_ stupid because, and not to sound like a misunderstood teenager, but everyone, _everywhere_ is _always_ trying to kill him. It's a fact. But he believes her earnest eyes and contrite voice.

_Or you _want _to believe her, _the small voice in his head intones. And he'll admit it that he does - sue him if he wants to believe this increasingly impressive, beautiful, funny, girl doesn't want to murder him.

_You said falling in love wasn't for you, _his brain chides.

_This isn't falling in love, _he snaps back, annoyed. _It's... I just like her. _

_Since when do you_ like _people?_

_Shut up, _he grumbles, and it occurs to him that maybe he should stop talking to himself and pay attention to Soleil's explanation. Because she _is_ still speaking. "- that vervain grows everywhere around here. I mean, I'm sure you know that seeing as how you're..." she flounders, "allergic to it." Damon snorts. Allergic is putting it mildly and Soleil seems to realize because she gives a rueful smile. _That's why my Compeling her didn't work, _he mulls. _If she drinks that tea everyday than she always has vervain in her system._ Leave it to him to find the one girl...

"You sprinkled garlic on your pizza the other day," she says, bringing him back, fully, from his thoughts. "I'm guessing that's a myth too?"

Damon smirks. "And crosses, and holy water."

"What about stakes through the heart?"

The grin slips off of his face and he takes a deep breath through his nose. Should he tell her the truth? He searches her face - he's sure she won't kill him. She'll reach up and punch him in the face before she kills him, he's sure of it. "That's, unfortunately, true." He doesn't mention that wood entering anywhere on his body is ridiculously painful. Knowing her, she'd jam a toothpick into his palm if he made her upset enough.

"Is that what that door thing was about?" she asks.

"What?"

"You were acting funny at the door. You really need a clear invitation inside?"

"If a human calls a place home, then yes."

She hums. "So, technically, you can't be uninvited? I mean, you can come in whenever you like? Even if I say no."

Damon shifts in his seat. "Pretty much."

Her eyes search his face, and Damon feels his jaw clench slightly. Here comes the part where she tells him to stay away from her and her house.

_That's what you get for liking people. _

_I'm sure I told you to shut-_

But it looks like she isn't going to banish him, because she's tilted her head to the side in a way that reminds Damon of a puppy and is getting up. She hops off of her stool, careful to walk around Loki who is now laying on his tummy, and to Damon's surprise stands between his knees. He stares down at her, keeping his expression neutral, and keeps his hands on his thighs despite the urge to hold on to her hips. "Do it again." she says softly and Damon feels his brow furrow.

"Do what?"

"Change. I want to see- I only got a glimpse..." she trails off as if wondering if she's overstepped her boundaries. Damon's mind is utterly blank before a torrent of thought burst through. What? Why? Why does she want to see? It's not pretty - it's fucking terrifying. He scared _himself_ the first time he saw himself change. Besides that, a woman has never _asked _to see him like that. And why would they – it usually means a bad ending for them. But Soleil's eyes are soft, and inquisitive, and hesitant, and he only contemplates it for a moment more.

He lets the change come upon his gradually. Feels his fangs slide out slowly and the veins creep up around his eyes. Her slightly widened eyes and the flicker of fear make him want to change back, but he doesn't and she steps a little closer with an expression of fierce concentration.

He doesn't start when her smooth hands touch his skin. Tips of fingers touch carefully under his eyes and over his cheeks. A thumb rubs across his bottom lip."Edward Cullen never changed like this," she murmurs, almost absentmindedly.

"Edward Cullen isn't real," he gripes, although it comes out slightly muffled due to his fangs being out, and she gives a little hum of agreement, fingers still exploring.

After a few long minutes her curiosity seems to plateau and she takes a deep breath before making eye contact. "Will you...I mean-" She falters, but takes another breath before continuing on. "This, you and me it wasn't – isn't – a... Have you been planning to..." Damon wants to jump in and protest, of course not. That he hasn't been planning to do anything to her, and that this hasn't been an elaborate ruse, but he bites his tongue and allows her to finish. She finally decides on the question she wants answered the most. "Will you ever try to hurt me?" Her voice is soft along with her touch and Damon allows his face shift back to normal before answering.

He could say that "he'll try" because he's not used to making promises. He could make a joke to lighten the mood - serious moments aren't his favorite. But he can tell that now is a time to push his hang ups to the side.

"No," he says simply.

Her thumb stokes the side of his face as she contemplates him. It feels like forever until she speaks again. "I'm sorry about the tea," she says again. "I didn't know."

And once again she's said something that makes something flare up in his chest in the most satisfying way. He doesn't let it show though as he smirks and dares to place his hands on her hips. "Ah, it was nothing. I've had _a lot _worse done to me. Believe me."

She bites the inside of her lip again and he can tell that she wants to ask him what kind of things, but she holds her tongue and gives a little smile instead. "I can believe it," she teases, before moving her hand towards the back of his head to scratch casually at the nape of his neck. The resulting shiver runs down his spine even as she slips away to pour another cup of tea and fix his cup of coffee. "You're cleaning up this mess, by the way," she says over her shoulder. "The mop is in the closet next to the front door."


	10. Chapter 9

Damon isn't used to being blindsided.

He doesn't _like _being blindsided, but that's probably because, he thinks now, everything he's been blindsided with all of his life has been negative. Negative, terrible, life-threatening. But it occurs to him that maybe being blindsided doesn't always have to be like that.

Soleil has blindsided him.

After his confession in her kitchen, nothing changed. Nothing. She still teases him, with the same sure look in her eyes. No fear that she might upset him and he'll rip her throat out. She still lets him touch her, hold her, and she still laces their fingers together when they walk. Hell, she lets him walk her home still, still invites him inside.

He thinks back to last night when he was sitting on her couch with Loki at their feet and 'Killer Movie' on the screen. "It's one of my guilty pleasures," she'd confided in him.

"It should be," he'd scoffed. "This movie is horrible. It's not even scary."

"It's not _supposed _be," she'd insisted and pulled back from under his arm to look up at him. "It's a comedy."

"It's hardly funny."

Soleil gave an indignant huff. "The guy who plays Jake has the greatest face! It's so expressive and he's _subtle_. I wish I knew his name. Paul something. Anyway, it's great." Damon had rolled his eyes, and she'd scrunched her forehead and hit him weakly in the stomach with the back of her hand. "You just don't _get _it."

"Mhm," he'd hummed, and the smile she'd given him made something warm flit through his bones. They'd looked into each other's eyes for much too long, with that horrible movie on in the background and his arm behind her, and Damon wanted to kiss her so bad he actually ached. But then, seeming to realize just what they were doing, Soleil's cheeks flared and she'd cleared her throat as she looked away. Disappointment washed over him, but was soon placated when she snuggled back into his side. He'd promptly ignored the movie on the screen to indulge himself and close his eyes against her sweet smelling hair.

Soleil is beginning to turn him inside out. She's giving him the kinds of looks he'd given up on ever recieving and touches he fairly melts into. She's giving him the idea that something, someone besides his brother, will be more than a fleeting occurrence in his life.

And he honestly doesn't know what to do about it.

**o o o **

When he opens the front door the first thing he sees is a basket. "A picnic," she announces, eyes alight.

"A picnic?" he repeats, eyebrow raised.

"Mhm," Soleil looks over shoulder and he notices that she's wearing the blue dress he'd gotten her in the city. "It is a beautiful day outside, _and_ I've got today off, _and_ we both know you have nothing better to do. Plus," she looks down and Damon follows her gaze to see a fairly happy looking Loki, bright green collar attached to a purple leash, looking up at him. "Loki's been looking forward to it." The puppy walks forward to sniff at Damon's ankle.

Damon acknowledges that she's right in his head, about him having nothing else to do today, but to her he says, "I'm not seeing how this equals a picnic."

She grins up at him, undaunted by his body language. "It'll be fun. C'mon." She tilts her head to the side in a way that makes her appear especially sweet. It makes his body feel warm and a smile appears without his permission.

"Fine," he rolls his eyes, as if she's asking for something other than a meal on the grass. He pushes himself away from the doorway and grabs his keys out of the bowl next to the door. "But I get to drive."

**o o o**

"You have to admit this is pretty nice." She's sitting next to him, facing the opposite direction, their hands and shoulders brushing occasionally. Burgundy curls blow slightly in the wind and her skin glows from the early midday sun, but Damon won't let her know how captivated he is. Instead he gives a wry little smile and shrugs a shoulder.

"I guess."

"You guess?" she answers back easily, voice relaxed. "This is pretty nice and you know it. I bet you haven't been on a picnic in over a hundred years." She pops a grape into her mouth and a few feet away, Loki gnaws on a daisy, pauses, and sneezes into the grass.

"I've never been on a picnic. People don't just _go_ on picnics."

"Sure they do." Her voice is still smooth and relaxed and Damon loves hearing her like this. Adores the fact that she can be so comfortable around him of all people, even after knowing what he is. "Me and Kara go on them all the time."

"I bet."

A small smile curves her lips and then her gaze is away from the trees in the distance and on his face. "You've never _once_ been on a picnic?"

Damon is about to say no, of course he hasn't, when a memory strikes him with immense clarity. "When I was a child," he hears himself answer, and even though he didn't plan on saying any of this he continues anyway. "Before my brother was born, my mother she would, ah..." He clears his throat, which suddenly feels a little tight. "She would prepare a basket herself, which was out of the ordinary considering our status and the servants, and would come and find me-" Another clear memory bursts into his mind's eye. "There was a lake near our home. It's still there, now. She would take my hand and we'd walk through the woods and the whole time she'd ask me about my day like it was the most fascinating thing in the world. I'm sure I didn't have much to say - I was only five or six." He gives a small laugh, despite the small ache he feels in his chest. It's foggy at the edges but he can almost remember looking up into his mother's face as he chattered on. "She'd let me pick out the spot, and I always picked the same one, under this tree whose leaves hung down like a barrier between us and the world... She'd spread everything out and..." He trails off, remembering how fresh everything smelled, and how the grass tickles his feet because she'd allowed him to take his shoes off once they reached the clearing. He recalls how happy she was just to be spending time with him. She'd made him feel so special everyday she was alive and he'd loved her more than anything, especially when she'd ignore Giuseppe when he accused her of coddling.

The wind blows, and the edges of the blanket lift, and Damon is pulled back to the present where Soleil regards him with soft eyes. The question is quiet. "Was she beautiful?"

"Oh yeah," Damon adjusts himself and leans more comfortably against the tree. "My mother was gorgeous. She had this thick, black hair that smelled like... her perfume and fresh water. And she had these eyes..." He remembers his mother pulling him onto her lap while she sat at the mirror in her bedroom. He couldn't have been more than four at the time. _"That's how everybody knows you're my little boy," _she'd whispered. _"You have your mother's eyes." _Then she had given him a big kiss on the cheek that made him giggle and wipe at his face before tearing out of the room into the hall to terrorize the help.

_God, _he misses her. It had taken years for the words to stop echoing in his head every time he looked in a mirror and saw a spitting image of his mother staring back at him.

His chest gives another, stronger, ache and he can't manage to look at Soleil at the moment. He can feel her gaze on his profile and soon the touch of her fingers as they drift across his own. She twines their pinkies together. The action simultaneously makes him want to lean further away and closer to her - he doesn't enjoy being vulnerable. At all. He avoids it and right now he's basically about as laid out as he's going to get in front of her.

The silence is punctured by the sound of leaves rustling in the wind, Loki's panting, and birds twittering. Damon desperately wants to change the mood, but is, for once, at a loss. He feels her shift closer to him. "What's it like?" He looks over at her silently and she elaborates. "What's it like, being a vampire? How does it feel?"

"Powerful," he answers automatically.

"How?"

Damon thinks, sitting still as to pay more attention to his body. "Your skin buzzes. Everything is sharper... Confidence comes with the package – you know nothing can defeat you. You're the top of the food chain." He watches her expression carefully, gauging her reaction at his wording, but in a rare moment that reminds Damon of himself, he can't read her expression.

"It's not frightening?" she asks.

Damon rejects the idea aloud, even though a small part of his mind stirs."You're better. You're faster, stronger, and you _know _it. Fear doesn't really enter into the equation." Soleil seems to be thinking about his words and Damon takes this opportunity to listen to the stirring in his mind.

_It _is_ frightening._ _Knowing you can lose control- _

_knowing you'll be alone until someone sticks a stake in your heart-_

_knowing you're a monster - _

Soleil's voice jerks him back to the park, away from the flurry of stifling thoughts.

"If I couldn't get a hold of one of your ring thingies, I don't think I'd ever become a vampire." Damon's eyes flick over to her, and her face is upturned now, soaking in the rays of light. "If I couldn't feel the sun again, I think I'd go mad."

The truth is still swirling somewhere in the back of his mind and Damon answers quickly, a little too honestly. "You don't want to become a vampire in the first place."

"Why not?"

And he feels another wall crumbling- he's only told the truth to one girl, and he'd been piss drunk in the middle of the road, and made sure to kill her afterwards. _Maybe the first time is the hardest? _"It's... not fun," is the best way he can put it without being tempted to just lay it all out, because, damnit, he's so tired of holding this all in. "I mean, it _can_ be fun. Depends on what you call fun... it has it's moments."

"But?" she prods, seeming to sense that he has a whole lot more to say on the topic.

"_But-" _and Damon can't go any further. Confessing that he wishes every damn day that he was human again is too much. Explaining that if you aren't one of the lucky ones, being a vampire is all about going through this long life alone would make him hurt. Especially after talking about his mother. Especially when, on a level he doesn't want to admit exists, he's staring to think, to _hope,_ that maybe he might be one of the lucky ones for a little while.

Soleil is quiet for a moment. "I dunno," she murmurs and turns her face away from the sky to look at Damon. Her voice has changed pitch, and is now light and teasing. "If I could have your stunning good looks for for_ever... _It's tempting." The gratitude at trying to switch from heavy conversation to lightness sweeps through Damon and a small, but real, laugh is pulled from his chest. Soleil grins back and her pinky squeezes his briefly.


	11. Chapter 10

The day is warm and windy as Damon stands on Soleil's doorstep. He rings the door and waits. "Come in!" she calls and moments later he is wandering into of the bright kitchen. Soleil is blending something green and thick in a food processor, and there are discarded fruit peelings everywhere.

"What's all this?" he picks up a stray strawberry and bites the end, sweet juice filling his mouth.

"I felt like a shake." The smile she gives him over her bare shoulder makes that warm feeling flood is body again and he has the sudden urge to touch her. _Really_ touch her. He takes in her overly large yellow T-shirt, the way it swallows up her small body and the expanse of bare leg shown off by her short shorts. Her hair glints in the sunlight streaming through the window and Damon wants to bury his fingers in her curls. He wants to walk up behind her, wrap her in his arms and bend to rub his face against her neck, breathe her in. But they haven't gotten to that stage, at least not yet so he holds back and instead picks up another strawberry. Unaware of her slightly overwhelming effect on him, Soleil blends for a few more seconds and shuts the machine off.

"You eat way too healthily," Damon wrinkles his nose.

"Says the guy who will live forever anyway," she teases back and goes for a glass in the cupboard. "You could sprinkle anthrax on your fries and be good to go."

Damon smirks and shrugs, leaning against the counter to watch her move about. His fingers itch with the want to draw her closer. There's something about this girl... and after yesterday... she'd handled everything perfectly. She hadn't babied him after he'd gotten choked up about his mother, and didn't push him to talk about Turning. She'd taken it in stride, as if she she heard about vampires and their repressed memories everyday. The idea of having that in his life is ridiculously comforting.

"You okay?" Her brow is furrowed in concern as she pours her drink.

Ignoring his base instincts to get closer, Damon nods. "Fine. Why do you ask?"

"You're just really quiet. God knows I usually can't get you to shut up. Did something happen?" She clears space on the counter next to his arm, brushing the skins into the sink, and hands him the full cup. After hopping up to sit on the surface she takes the drink back and sips. Bliss flickers across her features, Damon swallows hard, and light eyes are fixed on his face.

"No." _Maybe, _his brain supplies. He's sure something is going on in Mystic Falls right now, but that isn't really his problem anymore.

"Oh..." The silence stretches on and Damon hates that this is actually effecting his communication with her. Her feet swing and a slight, sweet smelling breeze flows into the kitchen, rustling both of their hair. _Just do it, _his inner voice urges. _Just kiss her. It's all you can think about, anyway. Just get it over with. _His eyes flick over to Soleil, and she's cradling the cup in her hands and staring at her thighs. "Kara wants us to all go out Saturday night."

"Yeah, that's fine," he answers even though he's so distracted Damon isn't really sure what he has agreed to. He wonders if she'd push him away. Or maybe she would kiss back - she seems interested. She gives him that look sometimes, the one that Elena gives Stefan, when she thinks he isn't looking.

But it could just be his imagination.

_Just do it. _

_It might make her uncomfortable._

_Do it._

_I don't want to push her away-_

_Do. It. _

_Fine. _

Forcing nonchalance to radiate from his body, Damon pushes himself away from the kitchen counter and moves the few inches to position himself between her legs. Her seafoam eyes snap up in surprise, and a serious blush spreads over her cheeks, but Soleil doesn't ask any questions when he gently takes the cup from her hands and places it on the counter.

This is all going a lot quieter than he imagined it would. Not that he expected a lot of noises or a big discussion about it all, but everything that happens now is hushed - the sound of the cup being placed on marble, the rustle of cotton as he places his hands on either side of Soleil's body, another small gust of warm air swirling around them.

Slowly, he raises a hand to push a tendril of hair away from her face and when her eyelids flutter the adrenaline already rushing through his body kicks up a notch. He can hear the sound of her heartbeat mingling with the rustling of trees outside of the window and her sigh blends with the wind. Her eyes slide shut when he cradles her cheek in his hand, and when she nuzzles against his palm, as if his skin is the softest velvet Damon's breath hitches.

He leans in, tilting her head to the side gently, and when his lips touch the hollow of her throat Soleil shudders deliciously, the hands he didn't even realize where resting on his sides clenching, pulling him closer. When he raises his face, she turns her own to meet him and the second his lips press lightly against her own an utter sense of calm flows through him.

Soleil's lips are like pillows, obscenely soft, and Damon takes care when he kisses the upper with both of his own. She tastes sweet, like kiwis, and pomegranates, and strawberries and he can't get enough. She pulls back slightly, eyes still closed, but then she's closer again, lips ghosting over his own. He feels her small hands on his chest, one sliding down to rest on his stomach and the other up to rest on the side of his throat. The cool, soft skin of her palm sends a thrill rushing through his veins and his other hand moves on its own accord to place itself on the small of her back and pull her closer.

Another warm sweep of wind glides through the open window as her legs wrap around his waist and her tongue tentatively touches his lips and slides in to tease the sensitive skin inside. She nips softly, and he can't help the surge of arousal that hits him when it is combined with both of her hands now moving up to card through and tug gently at his hair. Damon's chest feels tight, and his limbs hot, and it is as if tiny soda bubbles are bursting against his skin. _It's perfect, _and he can't bother telling his mind to stop sounding like such a sap.

She whimpers and pulls her lips away from his when one hand slide up under her shirt to rest on the bare, silken skin of her back, but it is only to place soft kisses on his jaw line and down the side of his throat. His breath catches when she nuzzles the skin there in such an obviously affectionate gesture and he steps even closer, as his other hand slips into her hair. Soleil's body is utterly relaxed when she kisses back up his neck, along his jaw and meets his lips again, the whole movement one seamless caress.

The kiss goes on for what seems simultaneously like forever and a second before they pull apart for air. Foreheads resting together, Damon can feel her take deep, shuddering, quiet breaths through her nose as her fingers play at the nape of his neck and around his ears. Vaguely he tells his brain to tell his body to stop feeling like mush, but it turns out its pretty much in the same predicament. Although it does manage a smug, breathless _Told you so. _

After a few moments, Soleil's eyes flick open to meet his and she straightens up. "Oh," she breathes and the smile that bursts forth makes Damon's own lips twitch up into a genuine smile. "About time," she murmurs, beaming and places her arms to rest on his shoulders, pulling him in for a lazy, comfortable, kiss.

Damon wants to point out that she's the one that's been slowing this whole process down, but then her tongue slides against his, curling around the tip softly, and it doesn't seem to matter much anymore.

**o o o**

When Damon gets home, very, very late that night he calls Alaric.

"Hello?" Ric's voice contains the perfect amount of confusion and grogginess for Damon to know his name flashing on the caller I.D woke him up.

"Miss me?" Damon smirks and falls heavily on his back onto his couch. He literally feels as if he is floating on air. He smirks to himself as he recalls Soleil's blushes and soft sighs in his ear, small hands slapping his away when they got a little too fresh.

"Where have you been?" Alaric's voice demands. "You just left."

"I left Stefan a note."

"That didn't say anything about where you were going. I had to clean up those bodies you left in the living room, you know."

Damon grins. "I left those there for Stefan. I'm assuming you volunteered to help in werewolf clean up."

Alaric ignores that. "Where are you?"

"Georgia," Damon says loftily, as if he visits every weekend.

"Georgia?" Alaric deadpans.

"Mhm," Damon hums and swings his legs to settle his feet on the floor. "Mystic Falls was becoming a _major_ _drag." _He leans forward to start rolling a joint from the weed on the low wood table.

He can imagine Alaric running his fingers through his hair in frustration and the huff of air that transmits over the phone line confirms it. "Well," he finally says, "when are you coming back? Things are getting ridiculous here-"

"Ah ah ah," Damon tuts and he lights the joint. He takes a deep inhale and holds it in as he speaks. "I did _not_ call for an update, Ric. Mystic Falls equals-" air billows through his nose as he exhales, "not my problem anymore."

Alaric makes another frustrated sound. "Then why did you call me at three o' clock in the morning, Damon? For a chat?"

"Exactly." Another sweet inhale, held, and blown out.

"What?"

"Have you never had a phone conversation before, Ric? I know you have - I've heard you and Jenna doing those fucking baby voices to each other more than once-"

"Shut up," Alaric grumbles and Damon chuckles. "Fine. You want to talk, talk."

Damon's skin buzzes, and his mind is a little fuggy, and that delightful pressure on his cheeks is beginning to make itself known. "_I _have met someone."

Nothing is said for a few seconds. Then- "Okay?" Alaric prompts and Damon expected a bigger reaction. He begins to feel indignant at Alaric's _non-_reaction when he realizes that Alaric probably is justified in not putting two and two together. Damon isn't one for dating, after all.

"A girl, a woman," he clarifies. "I'm pretty sure I have a 'Jenna' now. Except, you know, I don't lie to her twenty four seven about my whereabouts and the existence of supernatural creatures."

There is silence on the other line and Damon takes another hit. Finally- "Are you high?"

_"_Yes, I am. But this isn't like that shit we did before I left. The stuff that made you see things. Soleil is real."

"Soleil."

"I know, ironic huh?"

Another bout of silence and Damon closes his eyes. "You-" pause. "You called me to tell me that you have a _girlfriend_?"

"And, you know, to chat about life on a whole, but mainly, that, yeah."

"And you said she knows you're a vampire?"

"She does."

"_How_? You _told _her?"

Another inhale. "I _had_ to," he forces out through occupied lungs.

"Why?"

"She gave me vervain."

Alaric isn't one to splutter, but he's very close to it now. "_What?" _

"You're missing the point here, Alaric," Damon says and blows the smoke out through his mouth. His body feels warm and he's starting to crave blood. "I, Damon Salvatore, am _committing_ to something. You were always telling me I needed to commit to something-"

"I was _talking_ about you not killing people and dumping them in the woods-"

"I'm not doing that anymore either," Damon informs him. "Not after all those news stories."

Silence reigns for so long that he vaguely suspects that Alaric has hung up on him. Either that or has had an aneurysm. There is a heavy sigh and Alaric finally speaks. "I don't think this is a good idea, Damon."

Damon snorts. "Good thing I think its a _great_ idea."

Alaric ignores him. "We don't need anyone else in this, especially someone who's tricking you into drinking vervain."

"It wasn't a _trick_, It was a _misunderstanding_." The words are punctuated with hand movements. "And there's no _this, _not anymore. Not for me at least. I told you, Mystic Falls-"

"You can't just _not _come back, Damon."

"Watch me." Through his buzz Damon feels annoyance. "You don't know... Soleil. She's..." her smile flashes in his mind's eye. "You have no idea."

Alaric gives a small, disbelieving laugh. "How high_ are_ you?"

"_Very. _I don't know why you keep fucking asking. It doesn't have to do with anything." Silence. "You're a terrible friend, you know that?" Damon mumbles. "I should have called Caroline."

"Sorry if I'm not jumping for joy, Damon." Damon thinks Alaric doesn't sound sorry at all. "But you disappear, no one can reach you, then you call and say you've fallen for a girl in Georgia who gave you _vervain._"

Damon rolls his eyes. "I explained that already."

"You really didn't."

"Whatever." Alaric is beginning ruining his buzz and Damon regrets calling him. What did he expect anyway? Giggling, squealing, and comparing kissing techniques?

Alaric sighs. "Damon."

"What?" he snaps.

Another sigh. "Tell me about her."

"I don't think I want to anymore," Damon fairly grumbles.

"_Damon._"

Damon finishes his joint and grins to himself before settling into the couch. "What do you want to know?"

"Is she a threat?"

Not exactly what Damon was going for, but it'll do. He thinks about how she stood up to that jerk in the club and how she matches him wit for wit everyday. "Kind of."

"What? Damon-"

"Calm down, calm down. Not like that. Like _that _she's harmless. Promise. So you can put all of your hunting paraphernalia away, Rambo. She just tough." A flash of her filling up bird feeders and baby talking Loki. "In her own way," he tacks on.

"What else?"

"Well, she's _gorgeous, _but I'm sure you already knew that. I mean, c'mon its me." Damon opens his eyes and gets up from the couch to head to the kitchen. "She's small, and adorable, and feeds squirrels."

"What?"

"She's got this feeder in her backyard," Damon murmurs absentmindedly as he rifles through his fridge. He pulls out a bottle of vodka and a pouch of blood along with some left over pizza.

"She sounds..." Alaric pauses and Damon rips open the pouch with his teeth, dumping the contents into a glass. "Interesting."

"She is," Damon confirms as he mixes in a healthy dose of alcohol. "She's a good listener." This is said in a lighthearted tone, mainly so Alaric won't grasp just how important this fact is to Damon. He doesn't want to seem like that guy who constantly needs to talk about his feelings. He used to be that way, when he was alive, but time (and Katherine) eventually beat it out of him.

"Where'd you meet her?"

Damon dips the end of his pizza into the glass and takes a huge bite, and he can barely keep his eyes from rolling back in his head. _God, _everything tastes twenty times better you're high. "A coffee shop," he says around a mouthful of food. "She turned me down."

"And you wore her down." It comes out as a statement and not a question and Damon grins.

"Took a couple of weeks, but yeah."

Alaric sounds impressed. "Weeks? Huh. I think I'm beginning to like her."

"Haha," Damon takes another bite.

"When are you bringing her around so everyone can meet her?"

A real bark of laughter rips from Damon's chest. "Bring Soleil to _Mystic Falls? _Why, so Katherine can _eat _her? I don't think so."

"Katherine is in the tomb."

"Fine. So Elijah can take her back to his Eurotrash castle in the sky, or Jules can decide to take _her _hostage. If I can help it, she will never set foot in that town."

Alaric sounds tired when he says, "Damon-"

"In case you haven't noticed, nearly every new addition to that town gets ripped apart."

"By _you." _

"Yeah, well, I'm not taking any chances. Plus I've barely killed anyone since Katherine and Elijah rolled into town." _That you know of anyway. _Damon takes the last bite, inspects the crust, and tosses it onto the kitchen counter.

"Whatever."

"But enough about me," Damon says and downs half the glass of bloody vodka. "Has dear old Jenna been informed of your lying ways?" He can hear Alaric's eye roll.

"No, I haven't. Unlike you, I'm not trying to tell everyone that there are vampires running around."

"Communication is the base of every good relationship, Ric," Damon says in a mockingly serious tone.

"And you're the expert now?"

"In fact, I am." Damon downs the rest of his drink and crosses the space to head back to the couch. He's laying down again when he asks, "Seriously though, that _can't _be good for that situation."

"If by 'situation' you mean relationship, then yeah you're right." Alaric is quiet for a moment, and Damon moves his foot to a beat in his head while she stares up at the ceiling. "Look," he finally says, "I've got work in a few hours and I barely got any sleep last night. I'll talk to later."

"Right." He doesn't have to wonder about what could possibly be keeping Alaric awake at nights. At this point it has basically come down to everything in his life.

"And Damon, don't... just, don't get yourself killed."

"I've stayed alive this long haven't I?"

Alaric gives a huff of laughter. "You are like a cockroach."

"Cockroaches are like _me."_

_"Bye, _Damon." The line goes dead and Damon tosses the phone onto the carpet. He lets his eyes fall shut. Allowing a brief congratulates to himself for not once asking about Elena, Damon smiles as Soleil's face, and hands, and eyes fill his mind.


	12. Chapter 11

Damon, in his long, _long_, life has never really had an actual girlfriend (he doesn't count Molly Capolla - they were five and she left him hanging when he accidentally stepped on her daisy-train) Let there be no mistake - he has entertained many, many, women in his lifetime (and has had his fair share of week long marathon sessions) but he's never actually been _committed_ to someone. Well, there was Katherine, but it's pretty clear now that his affections for her were severely misplace and misguided...

He'd rather not think about it.

So, he's never had a girlfriend, true, but Damon knows enough to know that he and Soleil are good together. The kind of good that sends an odd thrill through his body when he realizes again and again, over the course of the next couple of weeks, that he is half of something pretty damn wonderful.

**o o o**

Soleil's backyard reminds Damon of Alice in Wonderland. It's chaotic, and bursting with color, and the grass is allowed to grow wild. It smells fresh, and clean, and the sound of running water is a constant due to the quirky stone fountain shaped like a small round table with painted tea cups in a haphazard circle and a spouting tea kettle in the middle. The water flows through the spout and into one cup while the others spit water up and into the top of the uncovered kettle. There are three trees back there – from one hangs a simple swing made of thick rope and a piece of plywood painted forest green. The other two are close enough for a hammock to hang between them and that is where Damon lays on his back now, one leg swinging off the edge to keep a barely there momentum going while Soleil straddles his waist.

"Tell me more about you."

"Like what?" he drawls and squints up at her face. The sun streams through her hair creating a sort of halo effect and his hands smooth up her thighs.

She shrugs slight shoulders dotted with freckles. "I don't know. Something I don't know yet. Tell me more about your home. Oh, tell me more about Stefan."

He slides his eyes closed and affects a nonchalant tone of voice. "Nothing really to tell." The truth is there is way _too_ much to tell when it comes to both Mystic Falls and Stefan. Tricky questions can easily lead to tricky answers and Damon hasn't told Soleil everything yet. Not about his father, and Katherine. Not a word about Elena, which of course means he really hasn't even told her why he left Mystic Falls in the first place - just a casual 'things were getting crazy' and left it at that. He's not hiding this information per se - it's just an exhausting line of conversation to go down, and right now all he wants to do is lay in the sun and try to work his fingers under the hem of Soleil's short, flowing summer dress. "He's disgustingly noble and a martyr - its irritating as hell," Damon continues. "He spends hours fixing his hair in the morning and has an obscene amount of morals."

"And you don't?"

A smirk slides across his lips as he continues to move his hands up her smooth thighs. "Not a one."

He can hear the smile in her voice when she responds, allowing his palms to continue their journey. "Is that so?"

"Mhm."

"That sounds bad, dating a vampire with no morals."

"You get used to it." His words are as easy as the fingers tracing the fabric of her silky underwear. He grins when he hears her heart rate speed up and feels the small shiver run down her spine.

"Is that what the other girls did?" Her voice is impressively steady what with Damon's fingertips doing what they currently are.

"What other girls?" he murmurs and shifts underneath her, subtly pressing his groin upwards. He still hasn't opened his eyes, but his grin widens at the sound of a hitch in her breathing.

"You must have had other girlfriends." Even though her questions are coherent, Damon can tell Soleil is distracted by the way he's teasing her, allowing his fingers to dip underneath silk, but avoiding anything vital. Her own hands slip underneath his thin black T-shirt and slide up his abdomen and chest. "All these years you've been alive, you must have had dozens."

_Tricky questions, tricky answers_. This is probably the perfect opportunity to break things down - he could explain that he hadn't been interested in a solid relationship for the first one hundred and twenty something years after his Turning, but once again it would lead back to Katherine. He could also explain about foolishly falling in love with Katherine's doppelganger and having his heart continually handed to him in that situation, but he really, _really,_ doesn't want to talk about Elena right now. Or ever, really. "I don't really date," he says instead, softly - he pulls aside the delicate fabric with the fingers on his left hand and uses the first two on his right hand to distract her.

She's wet for him, slippery and slick and her breath judders out when he circles the bundle of nerves, not quite touching it just yet. That feeling of euphoria slips over him again, flowing through his veins - he _loves_ finally being able to touch her like this - to feel her hands against his bare skin, and feel her hot heat, and taste her tongue on his. He's had a lot of sex. A lot,_ a lot_ of sex with many different women in the past, and each lay has been fucking fantastic (it takes a lot for sex to be awful) but being with Soleil... there's just something different about it. And that's as far as he's taking _that_ thought because, really, he's not going to turn into a pansy about this.

Her nails dig gently into the skin of his chest when he slips two fingers inside of her and her whimper sends a delicious shiver cascading down his spine. "So... I'm special?" she asks and immediately takes a deep inhale of breath through her nose when Damon begins to pump his fingers slowly in and out.

He opens his eyes now and looks up into her face. Eyelashes flutter against the tops of flushed cheeks and a soft pink mouth hangs open a little in blissful concentration. Damon slips his unoccupied hand out from under her dress and slides it up her back to cup the back of a sun-warmed neck. He presses his foot to the ground to keep the hammock from swinging and pulls her down so that his lips meet hers in a soft kiss. Continuing to move his fingers, Damon pumps his hips up and down against the back of his hand, trying to relieve some his own tension. Soleil bites down on his lower lip gently, kisses the abused flesh, and breathes softly into his mouth at the added pressure.

She's close already- he can feel it in the way her small hands flex against his chest and in the way she clenches around his knuckles. He buries his hand in her silken hair, hooks his fingers and uses his thumb to circle the pearl of nerve endings. Her hips rock as she rides his fingers and Damon wishes that they weren't in this hammock - he wants to roll them over, unbutton his jeans, and-

Soleil cries out quietly into his mouth as shivers roll through her body and Damon continues to rub the pads of his fingers against those sensitive ridges inside throughout her orgasm. Finally, he slows and stops both his hand and hips - he's straining against the front of his jeans, but ignores it as she gives a lazy, satisfied moan and kisses his top lip, then the bottom and each corners. "Thank you," she whispers and nuzzles her nose against him. Besides the obvious, this Damon's favorite thing about satisfying her. The first time Soleil thanked him after sex, he had furrowed his own sated brow in confusion. "For what?" he'd asked, running fingers through her damp hair.

"For making me feel so good," she'd responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world to thank someone for an orgasm.

It took Damon the first few times to get used to this, and now he smiles softly against her lips and nudges her nose. "You're welcome." They lay there for a few minutes, the sun warming their skin and her fluttering kisses brushing his face and neck. "Yes, by the way." His voice low and a nervous energy is balling up in the pit of his stomach - it takes a bit of his courage to confess this to her, to open up and acknowledge what she means to him.

Soleil rolls her shoulders and pushes against his chest so that she is sitting up again, hair cascading over her shoulder and bright eyes, so similar to his own, looking down into his face. "'Yes' what?"

Damon swallows and turns his head to look out into her frantic garden. "You are. Special."

She doesn't say anything, but he can feel her staring at his profile. Then her fingers are cupping his chin and turning his face back towards her own. He stares at her collarbone and the deep green strap of her dress that matches the swing seat. The stroking of her thumb against his cheek causes his eyes to drift shut again and when she kisses his forehead he lets out a deep breath. "You are too." Her words are quiet, their warmth rivaling that of the sun against his hairline. His heart unclenches and the nervous ball of energy bursts into relief and something so strong he doesn't consider it.

"Now," he can feel her smile against his skin as she skims her lips across his forehead and down his cheek. Her fingers move down to fiddle with the button on his jeans and she whispers, "it's your turn."

**o o o**

Damon takes a beer out of Soleil's refrigerator, easily taking the top off and swigging it down.

"You staying tonight?"

He nods and takes another sip. She pulls open the drawer next to the stove and waves towards it.

"Pick a place and order out. I'm gonna go shower." She stands on her tip toes to give him a swift kiss and her wrinkled nose afterwards makes him smirk.

"Why do you even have beer if you don't like the taste?"

Soleil shrugs. "You drink it. Even though I can't fathom why. It's disgusting. I figured I might as well have some in the fridge so you don't finish all of my tomato juice."

Now it's Damon's turn to wrinkle his nose. "I'd rather drink battery acid."

"What do you have against eating healthy?" she asks with a laugh.

"It's kind of pointless. At least for me."

"Yeah, well, we can't all be that lucky," she smiles and turns to walk towards the bathroom. "I want Chinese," she throws over her shoulder.

Damon smiles after her, mildly glad that no one is around to see his slightly smitten expression. He drains the rest of the beer and sets the bottle down on the counter before digging through the menu drawer. Finding what he needs fairly quickly, he picks up his cell phone to dial out, but the second he does it begins to vibrate. He grins to himself at first, thinking it is Alaric, but a second look at the caller ID has him rolling his eyes. After a few second of deliberation he picks up.

"What?"

"Hello to you to, Damon." Stefan's voice comes through the phone, mild and slightly tired. "Alaric finally told me you called."

Damon flips the menu down onto the counter and turns to root through the fridge for another beer. "I'm surprised it took him this long. I swear that man cannot keep a secret."

"You told him to keep it a secret that you called?"

"No, but I _obviously_ should have." He hears Stefan sigh as he pops the top off the bottle in his hand. "What else has he told you?"

"That you said that you aren't coming back."

"That it?"

Stefan sounds wary. "Is there more?"

"Nope," Damon lies easily. He has no plans to tell Stefan about Soleil. He's not sure why – he's sure his brother won't begrudge him his budding romance. In fact, he would most likely encourage it, glad to hear that Damon was finally caring about someone, about a relationship, seriously. _Maybe you're too used to the pattern, _the voice in his head murmurs, barely heard. _Maybe you're used to them picking him..._ Damon ignores this with a healthy swallow of bitter liquid.

"You can't just stay away, Damon."

"That's what Ric said. And I'll tell you what I told him – watch me."

"We need your help-"

"You need my muscle and uncanny ability to rip hearts out," Damon scoffs.

"That counts as help."

"What, can you not keep Elena from trying to tie herself to an alter?"

For the first time in the conversation Stefan's voice hardens. "Not funny Damon."

"It wasn't meant to be. It's pathetic, actually. Your girlfriend is ridiculous." It takes a bit of self-control not to tack on '_mine is better._'

"She's just trying to protect everyone she cares about, you included."

Annoyance flares in Damon – partially at his brother for going down this line of persuasion, but also at himself; he's been so predictable when it comes to Elena. Throw him what looks like a bone and he'll jump. "Don't you fucking dare," Damon says angrily. "Don't try to play that angle with me, little brother. It won't work anymore I can assure you."

Damon is grateful when his brother does not attempt to play dumb, and the brief silence gives him enough time to get his temper under control. "Are you seriously not coming home?" Damon says nothing, but takes another sip of beer. "Fine," Stefan says through a sigh. "Listen, I gotta go-"

Damon hangs up the phone and tosses it onto the counter. Why did Stefan have to call now – when Damon was in a good mood and Mystic Falls far from his mind? _Not that far. _Okay, he has been thinking about the place ever since he'd talked to Alaric that first time, but he isn't going back. But even as Damon thinks this a small niggle of curiosity and what feels like the familiar worry makes itself known. He hasn't really allowed Alaric to fill him in, but he does know the plan is to kill Elijah. "What do they think I can do about it?" Damon grumbles to himself, but he thinks anyway. Considers, maybe, just maybe, paying Mystic Falls a little visit.

He ponders until Soleil's fresh scent and water warmed skin surrounds him, arms sliding around his waist from the back. "What'd you order?" she asks quietly and Damon turns and bends his neck to kiss her deeply, putting Mystic Falls and all it entails in the back of his mind for now.


End file.
